


Amnesia

by QuietDarkness



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-23
Updated: 2017-02-24
Packaged: 2018-09-26 13:29:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 48
Words: 78,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9899285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuietDarkness/pseuds/QuietDarkness
Summary: Her story isn't all that different from anyone else these days. The world went to shit, and the dead don't want to die. She's lost people. So has everyone else. Who she was before isn't who she is now. But there is one difference between Lena and every other survivor she's come across. She doesn't know who she was. And who she is? Well, she's still trying to figure that out.During the mayhem of the early days of the apocalypse, a fateful smack on the head stole her memory. All she's ever known is the world she's living in now. But that doesn't mean she's adept at surviving it. Eventually, she ends up alone and near death's door. Till a man on a motorcycle chooses to save her life.Now she has to decide if who she was is worth finding, or if she'll fight the hell that comes with what's forgotten and strive for something better with the one man in the world who can see past it all.'Hell is empty, and all the devils are here.' - William Shakespeare





	1. "Why are you blurry?"

The spiral of steam that came out in sporadic bursts from her open mouth as she tried to get her breathing under control fascinated the crap out of her. It wasn't like she didn't know what caused it. Like a lot of things, she just knew. And though she'd probably seen it a million times before, it was a relatively 'new' phenomenon for her. Funny, the things a person dwells on after fighting for their lives.

And there was a lot of that going around. Fighting. Surviving. Barely, anyway. _Seriously, whose idea was this apocalypse, anyway?_ She chuckled a little at that thought. Ah, shit. Was she losing her mind? Probably. She let her dark slanted eyes lower to the large machete in her hands. The rain was splattering on its flat surface, mingling with the fresh blood that she'd painted it with. And she clenched her jaw, squeezing her eyes shut.

Blood was not a new phenomenon. It was a way of life. Every day, it was either walker blood or people blood. Hell, even her own blood. She sometimes wished she could remember what the world was like when it wasn't red. But then she reminded herself she didn't need to miss something like that. What would be the point? She'd never get those days back, even if she could remember.

When she opened her eyes again, she was staring at the bloody corpses in front of her. Two men. All hands and no amount of gentleness. They'd seen a woman on her own and hey, why the hell not try to rape her in the rain. She already didn't remember much about the fight. That happened. More often than not. She blacked out. And when she 'woke up', whatever it was that had threatened her was usually dead. Or more dead.

These two had just stepped out of the woods onto the road in front of her. She'd been so lost in her own weird little world that she hadn't even known they were there. Brandishing hunting knives and yellow toothed grins, they'd wasted no time letting their intentions be known. Walkers weren't the only monsters in the world, after all.

Her fear and anger flared. She blinked. And they were dead. She was good with weapons. Guns, knives, whatever anyone put in her hands, she knew how to use. And it scared the shit out of her. The things she couldn't remember seemed far more frightening sometimes than the hungry dead. But it was the things she couldn't remember that seemed to be keeping her alive. Like a voice in the base of her skull that was constantly pestering her with knowledge she had no reason to want or have.

Eventually, she pulled herself off the dirty, wet road. She was soaked to the bone. The thin windbreaker did very little to ward against the elements. She scooped up the heavy backpack she'd dropped at some point, dragging it along with her as she moved toward the men. Both their throats were cut, blossoming red lines that congealed into dark maroon splotches where they'd bled out. She didn't hesitate to stab her blade into each of their heads, through the eyes. It was always easier that way. Then she put the machete back into the makeshift holster on her belt.

It wasn't till she tried to hoist the backpack onto her shoulders that she realized she was hurt. And not just 'ouch' hurt, but 'sonofabitch' hurt. Her left hand wandered behind her, probing her lower back to find... the hilt of a knife sticking out just above her ass, embedded all the way in. The sudden realization that she'd been stabbed sent pain reeling through her body. Her legs shook, and her knees gave way as the last of the adrenaline fled. She hit the tar with a smack, rain splattering up around her as her palms flattened on the road. She let the bag fall back to the ground, her wet black hair spiraled around her face in thick rivulets as she panted, one hand trying to get a good grip on the hilt.

 _Am I supposed to pull it out? Or... or do I keep it in?!_ , she inwardly panicked. She wasn't a doctor, after all. Or, at least she was pretty sure she wasn't. Would pulling it out cause more damage? And what if she bled out? It wasn't like she could turn her head all the way around to properly see the damn thing and bandage it properly.

Once she had her hand firmly around the hilt, she began to breathe quicker. “Fuck... fuck, fuck, fuck.” She muttered. She didn't typically have a foul mouth. But hell, circumstances being what they were, a few swear words were needed. Finally, she shoved her inner questioning aside and just yanked. The blade slid out, but not easily. It tugged somewhat sideways because of the angle she had to pull it at. And she couldn't help the yell that escaped her lips, just as the sound of rumbling filled the air.

She collapsed to the wet road, feeling a strange hotness spread across her back and left side. The rumbling began to get louder. _Is that thunder?_ She lifted her head then, just in time to see that it wasn't. No, it was a motorcycle, with a very wet and somewhat blurry looking man on top of it, pulling to a stop just near the two she'd just killed. “Why are you blurry?” She asked softly, her voice barely a whisper above the pattering rain. Then everything got very cold and silent just before she closed her eyes and the world went black. She barely had time to register the sound of boot falls moving toward her, unconsciousness gripping her tight and dragging her down into her own dark little hell.

* * *

He stepped around the two bodies, crossbow aimed expertly at the woman in the road. Her eyes seemed to focus on him for a breath of a moment before she furrowed her brows and asked, “Why are you blurry?” And then... plop. Her head hit the pavement and she was out. For a moment, he just stood there, watching her. Her hair was plastered to her pale cheeks by the rain, her clothes were ragged and wet. Her boots were worn out, and one was held together by duct tape. The backpack at her side was full of holes hastily sewn together with fishing twine. And on her lower back was a spreading, dark blood stain that was turning her navy blue windbreaker to a nice and shiny black.

He could just leave her there, and he did think about it at first. But that's not why he was out here. The whole point was to recruit people, find survivors. A point he'd argued for with Rick. And she was a survivor, right? He glanced at the two freshly dead men. He didn't know what had happened, not really. But he could guess. Two against one, and this frail looking woman who had obviously seen better days still ended out on top? Shit. Survivor was right.

He slipped the crossbow over his shoulder, kneeling beside her and pressing his hand to her throat, feeling for a pulse. It was steady, maybe a little slow. But there. He let out a deep breath and let both knees hit the pavement at her side, ripping one of his sleeves off as he let his eyes roam the area around them, the rain turning into more of a drizzle. He rolled the cloth into a pad of sorts, lifting up her windbreaker and old plaid shirt to see the knife wound. He pressed the pad against it, then ripped off the other sleeve, tearing it into strips and wrapping it around her, tying it in place over the pad. He made quick work of the makeshift bandage.

“Alright, girly...” he growled out as he put her backpack on, shifting the crossbow, before he turned her over and hoisted her up. He carried her over to the motorcycle. Getting her settled in front of him was a bit tricky. He had to have her face him, straddling the bike, so he could make sure she wouldn't fall over. Her head was against his shoulder, her face buried into his neck. She was dead weight, but not much. The woman needed a hell of a good meal.

The motorcycle roared to life, and he urged it back on its way just as the moans of walkers met the air, three lumbering forms exiting the treeline and making their way toward the bodies of the men that Daryl and Lena left behind.


	2. "Was I speaking Urdu? Who are you people?"

_She was heavy. As though every inch of her were weighted down by something entirely too large, and yet she didn't hurt. And it was dark, everything a pitch that stretched on farther than she could imagine. There was no sound. No reason to move. Nothing. It was all too familiar a place. She should have been scared, should have wanted to force herself to move, to make her body work. But she just stayed there, floating in the infinite, snuggled down into the quiet dark._

_Until..._

'You're not supposed to be here, silly.' _The voice belonged to a child, disembodied, and everywhere all at once._ 'Open your eyes.' _But Lena just kept floating there in the dark._

'I don't want to. I like it here.' _She replied, feeling something pressing into her lower back. She didn't like the feel of it. And she wanted to move away from it, deeper into the quiet dark. But something was keeping her in place._

'You'll come back eventually. But not yet!' _The child giggled. Lena thought it might be a little girl._ 'Now open your eyes, Lena. You're almost home!' Suddenly the dark spiraled around her, and she was falling helplessly, beyond the quiet dark, deeper into something else... somewhere else... somewhere she didn't want to be...

"-was easy enough, but she lost quite a bit of blood so she's going to need to rest for awhile." A woman's voice met Lena's ringing ears as she slowly came-to.

"Son of a..." Lena muttered, a hand moving up to her throbbing forehead. When had she hurt her head? And her back. Oh, goody. Her back. It was on fire, and felt like someone had shoved a rod deep into her bones, just to yank it back out again. She blinked groggily at the ceiling, a domed light overhead blared back at her. And suddenly, she remembered. The men on the highway, the knife in her back and the blurry man just before the world went dark. She sat up with a jolt, gasping instantly as pain melted her form back into the bed she was in, her breath hitching as she cringed and a hand came to her shoulder, pressing her into the bed. The voice that went with the hand was thick with an accent.

"Hey now, easy. You shouldn't be sittin up just yet." She forced her eyes to open all the way this time, looking up to see several people. The man who'd spoken was lean, but healthy with a fair amount of stubble and a stern pair of eyes. There was a woman, heavier with a ponytail and glasses who looked so concerned, it actually made Lena raise a brow. The other woman in the room was chocolate skinned with dread locks and the most confident face she could remember seeing. And then there was one more man, with somewhat shaggy and unkempt hair that fell over his eyes, visibly strong arms that were crossed over his chest, dressed in holy, warn out black jeans, a ripped shirt beneath a black vest and a pair of muddy boots. And he was staring straight at her.

"Where am I? Who are you?" She finally managed to get out, reaching a hand up and brushing the first man's hand off her shoulder like it was a bug. He glanced at her, slight amusement in his eyes before looking around the room. He didn't say anything at first, it was just quiet. "Was I speaking Urdu? Who are you people?" She grumbled again, this time letting her dark eyes wander from person to person, till they landed on the man with his arms crossed. "Wait... I know you, I think..." she said, furrowing her brows. "You look better when you're not blurry." He heaved a soft chuckle, dropping his arms and moving over to the side of the bed.

"I found you on the road. You were hurt. So I brought you here." He explained, looking over at the other man who just nodded at him. "I'm Daryl. This is Michonne, Denise and Rick." He said, motioning to each in order. "Yer safe here. Doc fixed you up. Lucky I found you when I did." His voice was gruff, a bit raspy. But despite his demeanor and general appearance his dark blue eyes were kind. _Ooh, look. A kind person._ It was like seeing a unicorn.

"She needs to rest, Rick." Denise said, stepping to the other side of the bed and checking an IV which was attached to Lena's arm. "Can't we do the usual stuff later?" Rick, who Lena was quickly figuring out was in charge, shook his head.

"This needs to be done now, you know that." He looked back down at Lena and narrowed his gaze on her. "This is about the time you tell us who you are and explain what happened." _Oh, fun._ What could she possibly say? _Hi, I'm an amnesiac who blacks out and kills people! Nice to meet ya!_ She sighed a little at her own amusing thought, pretty sure that wasn't a good ice breaker.

"Lena." She said flatly, looking over at Daryl. "And he saw." Daryl shook his head.

"I didn't see shit. Unless you count you smacking yer head into the road. Looked like you took out two pretty big fellas. Wanna explain that?" He demanded. She fought the urge to roll her eyes at him.

"They wanted to play the touchy-feely game and a big old fat 'NO' wasn't working for them." She growled out, glancing at Michonne who smirked lightly. "Look... they jumped me, I fought back. I won. Daryl here found me. I passed out. I woke up here. The end."

Rick couldn't help it, he smirked too. "I get it, it's rough out there. Believe me, we know. But if you're going to stay here, we need to talk civilly. We're going out on a limb keeping you here. I need to know if it's a safe thang to do, or if I need to send you on your way as soon as you're healed up. So... answer a few questions for me and we can let you sleep, and settle the rest later." For a long moment, she just glanced at everyone around her. Then rolled her eyes and sighed, relaxing completely into the bed.

"Fine." She said, though not happily. She didn't want to be here in this... what was it, a house? Looked like a living room turned into a M.A.S.H. unit. Rick didn't miss a beat, he went right into it.

"How many walkers have you killed?" He asked. Everyone in the room seemed to go still, just staring at her, waiting. Even Denise, who up until that point had been meandering around and putting things away. Lena looked at Rick.

"I don't know. Enough. More than enough."

That answer seemed to satisfy him because he went on to the next question. "How many people have you killed?" That made her pause a moment, eyes darting to Daryl.

"Counting the touchy-feely brothers on the road? Five." she said, her voice much quieter than she intended. She had to swallow down the sudden pit in her throat as she met Daryl's gaze. It was Daryl who asked the next question.

"Why?" The redneck asked, his booted feet taking him one step further to her bedside. She clenched her jaw, looking away. She didn't want to look at any of them.

"Two you know. One got bit and asked me to. And two..." her voice trailed off and she closed her eyes, shaking her head a little, her hand coming up to her forehead. "I'm not even sure if I killed them or not." Her voice was pretty much a whisper at that point, hot tears threatening to escape her eyes. Rick shifted at her side, and she fully expected him to interrogate her further. But Denise, oh suddenly-awesome Denise, stepped up and put a gentle hand on Lena's shoulder.

"That's enough. She needs rest. You can all talk to her in the morning. The rest can wait." She practically ordered. Lena had the feeling that uprightness didn't come easy for the glasses clad woman. Lena opened her eyes to see Michonne quietly already heading for the door.

"Alright, but I want Daryl to stay and keep watch for now." Rick said to Denise, then stepped around the bed. "In case she tries anything." He said to Daryl, glancing back at her like she was a bad kid he was waiting to screw up one more time so he could send her to the principle's office. She had to stop herself from sticking her tongue out at him. Daryl just nodded, and once Rick was gone, the door closed behind him, Daryl grabbed what looked like an old wooden folding chair, propped it up against the wall and sat with his arms over his chest and one leg out straight, watching her like a hawk. Denise just told her to rest, checked her IV one more time and disappeared up a staircase.

"You don't expect me to sleep with you staring at me like that, do you?" Lena grumbled after a long silence, turning her head to look at him. His dark blue eyes barely shifted, he just settled a bit deeper into his seat and let out a breath. "Alrighty then. Good talk." She muttered and turned her head back to stare at the ceiling. It was going to be a loooooong night.


	3. "What the hell was that for?!"

She was feisty. That was the one word he kept coming back to. Full of a sarcasm and wit that made him involuntarily want to smile. But she was dangerous. No one without some serious training could do what she'd done on that road. It wasn't like he was an expert. Far from it. But he also wasn't stupid enough to think it had just been luck, slicing two men up in such a clean and obvious way. Yeah, sure. They'd probably deserved it. The bottom line, though, was that she was dangerous. Dangerous could be good. Or very, very bad.

'Two men? On her own?' _Rick had asked as Denise hastily began to work on the unconscious woman's wound. Michonne had kicked both men out into the hallway. Daryl ran a hand through his wet hair, nodding slightly._

'Yeah, man. It was like they'd been assassinated. You shoulda seen it. Throats cut clean. They didn't stand a chance.' _He said, letting his hand fall back to his side before crossing his arms over hist chest. Rick paced to the closed door quietly, glancing back at Daryl._ 'I know what yer thinking. But I couldn't jus leave her there. The whole point of me an Aaron recruiting is to find people, right? Well... I found someone.'

'I get that, I do.' _He turned to face Daryl more fully._ 'But we don't know anything about her. We don't what happened on that road or what her circumstances are. And if she's really that skilled at killin... man, she could be dangerous.'

'So what're you sayin? We just throw her out and let her fend for herself? You didn't feel her. She's skin an bones. She's never gonna survive, not like that. And not with a wound that bad.' _Daryl growled out, finding himself lobbying for a woman he didn't even know. Rick sighed._

'That's not what I meant. Just... let's get her patched up, find out what her deal is and we'll go from there, alright?' 

Daryl had quietly agreed. Hours later she'd woken up, sassy and cranky, and with answers he wasn't sure Rick liked much. Five men wasn't all that unusual. The world was shit and it made shitty people. But the fact that she wasn't sure if she killed two of them or not? That was just... odd. Daryl remembered every person he killed, good or bad. It's not something anyone in their right mind forgot.

Her answers only begged more questions, all of which Denise wouldn't let them get answers to just yet. Hours went on in the quiet of that room. Denise came back every now and then to check on her new patient. And Lena, a pretty name he had to admit, was sleeping fitfully. She had a fever, and Denise had given her a shot of antibiotics. Which meant it had to be pretty bad, considering the meds were harshly rationed. It wasn't till around one in the morning that he scooted his chair closer to her bedside. He wanted to get a better look at her, now that she wasn't wet with rain.

She was... beautiful. Asian. Though damned if he knew what kind. Glenn still gave him crap sometimes for getting his ethnicity wrong. Like he knew what the difference was, shit. Despite the obvious malnutrition, she was strong. Her skin was pale. The only scars he could see were on her arms, like she'd been cut and burnt on each one. Though obviously a long time ago. She was wearing a fresh cotton shirt and a pair of scrub pants that Michonne and Denise had put on her. He remembered how light she had felt, despite her height and strength. And seeing her laying there like that, she looked almost frail. Like he could snap her in half without trying. No... no, he couldn't let her leave. She'd never make it.

It was with that definitive thought that she cried out. At first he thought she'd woken up in pain, but it took only the breath of a moment for him to realize she was dreaming. And it wasn't a pleasant dream, either. Her hands gripped the sheets for dear life, her knuckles bleeding white with the effort. Her back arched and she yelled out a fevered and ragged, “NO!” He bolted up out of his chair, putting a hand on her shoulder, his other on her hip.

“Hey, wake up! Yer safe!” He urged her, attempting to hold her down so she wouldn't hurt herself or tear her stitches. Damn, was she tougher than she looked. Her eyes suddenly flew open, then. And before either of them knew what happened, her free arm came up and her fist connected with his jaw with a loud thwack, causing him to stumble backwards and her to fall off the bed, landing with an 'oof' on the floor.

He rubbed his jaw instantly, glaring down at her. “What the hell was that for?” He demanded, moving back to her and crouching down. She was just laying there on her stomach, breathing heavily.

“Ouch.” She muttered, then turned her head to look at him as she felt his hands grab hold of her. She let him help her sit up. There was a dazed and softly confused look on her face, but she glanced around and seemed to remember where she was. “Um...” she met his eyes. “Why am I on the floor?”

He frowned deeply at her, then put both hands under her arms and hoisted her easily back to her feet, making her sit down on the bed. “Cause ya hit me, that's why.” He grumped at her, reaching around her to lift up the back of her shirt and check her bandage.

“Hey!” She swatted at him from where she sat, attempting to push him away. “What the hell are you doing?!” He paused and looked at her, face to face, barely a few inches away. For a moment, he didn't say anything. That close to her, staring into those incredibly dark and mesmerizing eyes of hers, he swore he felt his heart skip a beat or two... or ten. Then he cleared his throat a little, to snap himself out of the momentary hypnosis.

“Hold still. I'm checking yer stitches. Damn.” He said, then shook his head and reached around her again. This time she just sat there. Stunned into silence, somehow. He gently lifted the edge of the bandage, peeling it back to look at the wound. Denise had done a really great job sewing it up. Luckily, Lena's little tumble off the bed hadn't damaged anything. He softly pressed the bandage back in place and let her shirt fall before taking a step back.

“Why'd I hit you?” She asked, crossing her arms over her chest and furrowing her brows, the fine line of her lips set in a frown. “What were you doing?” She demanded.

“What was I...” he started, then glared at her, “I was trying to wake your crazy ass up, that's what.” He motioned to the bed, pointing at the pillow. “Now lay down.” She just stared at him, and slowly shook her head.

“No. Why were you trying to wake me up?” She asked, still sitting there all suspiciously. “Thought I was supposed to be resting.” She added a bit sarcastically. _Oh, this woman._ He could tell she was going to be a royal pain in his ass. He fought the urge to bare his teeth at her.

“Cause you were havin a nightmare, okay? Shit, girly. Lay the hell down.” He ordered, reaching over and grabbing her shoulders to force her back onto the bed. She surprisingly didn't fight him. Just flopped back with a little wince, arms still crossed over her chest like a pouting five year old. He pulled the thin blanket back up over her with a sigh and sat back in the chair with a plop, the old chair creaking slightly beneath his weight.

“My name's Lena. Not girly.” She said once he was settled, looking over at him before letting her hands relax at her sides. He looked back at her, quietly studying her face which had lost its stern look. Then he nodded.

“Gotta last name?” He asked, his tone considerably softer than before. She blinked at him, then shrugged one shoulder, looking back at the ceiling, her eyelids getting slightly heavy.

“I don't know.” Was her answer. “I can't remember.” She pulled the blanket up a bit more, like there was suddenly a chill only she could feel. "Sorry I hit you." Was the last thing she said before she closed her eyes again. He wanted to prod, to ask how anyone forgets their last name. But there was something about the way she looked once her eyes were closed, a gentleness to her face and a peace he had yet to witness, that completely silenced him. Lena No-Last-Name. Something told Daryl he was in for one hell of a ride.


	4. 'It's the goddamn Twilight Zone...'

Three weeks of utter torture. Okay, so maybe not torture. But boredom disguised as healing and attempting to get answers from Lena that she just didn't have. Shit, she'd have spilled all the beans if she had them to spill, just to get out of that damned room. A little sunshine and a view other than a window that looked out onto a huge wall would have made her expose the meaning of life at this point.

Trying to explain that she really did have amnesia and she wasn't just going around murdering people like a psychopath was a lot harder than it might seem. There were good people here, wherever here was. But they were a suspicious lot. Not that she could hardly blame them. She'd only met two others from the original few. Carol Pelletier, who brought her food and tried to hide behind casual conversation, and Maggie Rhee. A smart, level headed woman who seemed a little more willing to believe Lena than the rest.

Rick would pop in to ask her stuff. Denise would come to check on her wound and how her health was progressing. Michonne was the only one who she hadn't seen since being moved to the upstairs room. Daryl, however... well, she saw him far more than the others. He seemed to have taken it upon himself to keep her company and to keep guard when he wasn't busy on runs or looking for people. At first, she thought it was just to make sure she didn't try to pull anything or hurt anyone. And that's how she treated him. Like a warden who had way too much time on his hands. But there were moments when she caught herself enjoying his company, even looking forward to it. And when she realized it, it surprised the shit out of her.

At the moment, she was staring at herself in the mirror. She'd put on weight. She could stand up without her back wanting to give out. In fact, she felt better than she had in... hell, she couldn't even remember. She'd pulled her clean hair up into a ponytail. She was wearing a pair of jeans, a button up dark blue short sleeved work shirt and a brand new -or new to her- pair of boots that Maggie had found her. It was strange, seeing herself with definition to her features and clean skin. She almost didn't recognize herself. The only thing that seemed out of place now was the lack of a machete on her hip. She often found herself reaching for it out of habit, or rubbing her hip where it should be.

"What say we take a walk." She heard Daryl say, and she just about jumped out of her skin at the sound of his rough voice, spinning around to look at him. She hadn't even heard the door open. Had no idea how long he'd been standing there, watching her. He was leaning against the frame, one hand in his pocket, the other loose at his side. His hair was its typical disheveled mess, but he looked like he'd recently showered. His clothes were clean, though still pretty ragged looking. And he was still donning what she'd come to think of as his trademark vest. He tilted his head a little, watching her. "Well? Comin or not? Ain't got all day, girly."

 _Ugh, again with the girly._ She rolled her eyes at him, walking towards him a bit. "What, no crossbow?" She glanced past him into the empty hallway. "No heavily armed escort?" She crossed her arms over her chest for a moment, and he simply shrugged.

"We decided it's time to give you a try. This here'll still be your room for a bit, till we can find something else for ya... if you decide to stay." He straightened up, pushing away from the door frame. "First thing's first." He stepped backward into the hallway. "Grand tour." And he disappeared out of sight. She could hear his boots down the hall, and then thudding steadily down the stairs. For a moment, all she could do was stand there. _Freedom? Hell yes!_ And she practically darted after him, catching up just as he hit the last step.

"Why now?" she asked, following him as he rounded the corner through the infirmary to the front door. The sun was bright outside, a soft breeze was blowing, felt almost instantly as she stepped out with him onto the porch. And she had to stop. Her mouth opened in slight awe. It was... a freakin neighborhood. With people. And kids. A couple walked by, waved at Daryl and smiled like the world wasn't littered with walkers. _It's the goddamn Twilight Zone_ , she thought to herself.

Daryl hopped off the porch, turning when he realized she wasn't moving. "Hey." he snapped his fingers at her. "You okay?" She blinked at him, then very slowly nodded. "Well get movin, then." he said, moving to the sidewalk. She closed her mouth and met his side.

"You didn't answer my question." she said, looking around at everything. It was a whole lot different than the view of a wall, that was for sure. But she sure as hell didn't expect... well, this. Daryl just walked on like it was all about as normal as anything could be. "Why are you all trusting me now?"

"You ain't given us a reason not to." he glanced at her. "And amnesia ain't no reason to keep a woman locked away. Not your fault yer special." he quipped, a slight smirk branching on his lips.

"Funny." She grumped, adding, "Ass." she said. They walked in silence for a little bit, then he stopped in front of a house. "This is Rick's. He stays here with his kids and Michonne." Then he pointed to the one next to it. "I'm there with Carol. Few others." He turned around, pointing across the street. "That's the meeting house or some such shit." He started walking again, turning down a street. She just shook her head. It was all a little too surreal. After about a half hour, and him pointing out everything including the nicely fortified wall and gate that surrounded their peaceful little town, she stopped him, grabbing his elbow.

"Wait, just wait a minute." she demanded, letting him go when he stopped and gave her a little glare. "How is all this possible? I mean..." she chuckled, a little flustered. "All this?" she motioned around her with a wide sweep of one arm. "This is.... I don't even know what." she put a hand to her forehead, turning slowly to gaze again at the gate. Daryl watched her quietly.

"I guess it's a bit overwhelmin, if yer not used to it. We were skeptical, too, when we first came here." He touched her shoulder, then motioned with his head for her to follow. "Come on. One more thing I wanna show you." She just let out a breath and followed, feeling more like she was walking in a glorified daydream than the end of the old world. "We do everythin we can to keep this place safe. Findin people all the time. It's growin, slowly. More people now than we've had in awhile. Once you get yer bearins, yer gonna have to help with that."

"If I decide to stay, you mean." She said softly, stepping around a small tree as they crossed a a yard. He glanced at her, a long silent stare, then nodded.

"Yeah. If you decide to stay." He looked away, his face suddenly taking on a guarded expression. He stepped up onto the porch of a house which had its door open. Sitting in a chair, reading what looked like a National Geographic with the cover missing, was a woman with dark hair, pulled up into a messy ponytail and hidden somewhat beneath an army green hat, her leg tucked underneath her and a hand gun resting lazily in her lap. She looked up when she heard Daryl's boots on the wooden floor.

"Hey." she said, giving him a nod. "This the memory-laps lady?" The woman asked, motioning to Lena. Lena blinked. Then shook her head.

"I'm never gonna live this down, am I?" she muttered. Daryl smirked and just nodded at the woman in the chair.

"Rosita, this is Lena. Lena," he motioned to the woman, who stood up, setting the magazine aside, "This is Rosita." The woman took a sauntering step toward her, giving her a once over and nodding like she approved.

"Pleasure." she said, though it didn't quite reach her voice. "Need the lockup?" she asked Daryl, turning her eyes to the closed double doors across from where she'd been sitting. She reached into the pockets of her jeans and pulled out a set of keys, moving to the doors without waiting for an answer.

"Yeah." Daryl said, and after she unlocked the doors, he nodded to the front door leading outside. "Get some fresh air. I got it." he said. And Rosita just shrugged and muttered a 'whatever' before heading out, brushing softly past Lena as she went. "She's not so bad. Takes her a bit to warm up to people." he said over his shoulder. Lena just blinked and mouthed a 'wow', following behind Daryl as he stepped into the room beyond.

And what a room it was. Wall to wall weapons. Rifles, automatic weapons, hand guns, spears, and a table full of different kinds of ammo and knives. She stopped and couldn't help but grin. It was like Christmas morning! He glanced at her, and smiled a little. "Look like you're in heaven. Should I be worried?" he asked, though she could tell he was mostly joking.

"You weren't kidding when you said you guys do whatever it takes to keep this place safe." she said, moving toward the table and looking at the ammo and a set of daggers.

"Nope." was his answer. Then she could feel him behind her, his presence a strangely warm and comforting thing she'd begun to recognize. She turned, not actually expecting him to be so close, inhaling the smell of soap and motorcycle exhaust. But then she saw what was in his hands and stopped. "Figured you'd want this back. Cleaned it up for ya." He pulled her machete out of a brand new looking leather sheath. "Made this, too." he said about the sheath before slipping the weapon back into it and holding it out for her. "Can keep it with ya, long as you don't pull it out, unless... ya know. Necessity, an all."

She was well and truly speechless. She hadn't expected to ever see it again. And sure, it was just a blade. One that could probably be replaced by just about anything, considering her affinity with weapons. But she'd be lying if she said she hadn't grown attached to the thing over time. And to get it back like this? From him? _Well, hot damn._ She felt a flush in her cheeks, a warmth wash over her face, and she had to fight the urge to scuff her foot and say 'shucks' like some damn kid with a crush as she reached out and grabbed the machete.

"Thanks..." she said softly, looking up to meet his deep blue eyes. The way he was looking at her, damned if her heart didn't skip a few hundred beats. Lena had to swallow down the weirdness in her throat, and nodded quietly. "Really, Daryl. Thanks. For everything." After a long, quiet moment, he stepped back and shrugged.

"Just a knife." he said, as though it was as simple as all that. She couldn't help it, she furrowed her brows and stepped toward him.

"It's more than that. You saved my life. I owe you... everything." she said, then smiled sheepishly, stepping past him. "Not that I have much." She added sarcastically. Lena could feel his eyes on her as she stepped back out into the hall. She forced herself to head out onto the porch. Rosita was sitting on the sidewalk, talking to a kid with a Sheriff's hat. Neither one of them noticed her, and she was glad for it.

She couldn't stop looking at the leather sheath, running her fingers over the finely sewn piece. And it dawned on her that it was the first real gift anyone had ever given her. Well, that she could remember anyway. The thought of that made her cheeks flush even more and she had to take in a deep breath, letting it out slow. "Shit." she whispered. She looked around slowly, taking it all in one more time.

The peace here, the normalcy. And she suddenly felt completely out of place. The decision was hers, apparently, whether or not she stayed. And she had no idea what her choice would be. _But if it means getting to know Daryl Dixon a little bit more..._ she sighed softly at her own thoughts. _Keep it together, Lena,_ she told herself. There was no way she could stay here. Right? She didn't do well around people. Her blackouts... her lack of memory. She was a walking time bomb, waiting to go off. Or at least that was how she viewed herself. What right did she have to expose these people and this place to that? Regret and fear flooded her, and she gripped the machete tightly.

"Shit." she said again. _Shit, indeed._


	5. "So... what's with you and amnesia-girl?"

Two weeks later, Daryl was standing in the watch tower, pacing easily, a rifle over his shoulder, his crossbow leaned against the rail. It was well past midnight, the sky was littered with stars and the moon was half full. It was chilly, but he didn't mind much. Helped keep him awake. He'd taken the shift over from Abraham. Watching the wall was something he actually didn't mind doing. It was quiet, mostly. And he could keep to himself.

He'd grown to be a part of these people over the last several tumultuous years. Thinking about who he used to be, before the world went to shit, well... he was an asshole then. Sure, he was still kind of an asshole now. But as Carol put it, _'One with a heart of gold.'_ Of course, he'd just laughed that off for what it was. A joke. A heart of gold was way beyond him. But he was certainly a different man.

These people were his family, his home. It was the only reason he fought for this place. They could be anywhere, and he'd be happy with it as long as they all stuck together. They'd lost so much, so many good people. Having a fight chance was pretty much all any of them could ask for. Which was probably why he'd fought so hard with Rick to give Lena a shot.

'I know she can't remember. But what does it matter?' _He'd said, sitting across from Rick's kitchen table, Little Asskicker in his lap and playing with his crossbow strap. Rick was relaxed back in his chair, turning a glass of water in one hand._

'It matters. A lot. She won't talk about it, those two people she says she's not sure if she killed or not? There's no details. It's the one thang she's not willing to elaborate on. And it makes it hard to trust her.' _The former Sheriff said, smiling a little at Judith as she made a low giggle. Daryl made a face at her, and she just grabbed his nose. He gently pulled her hand off and looked at Rick._

'I think we can safely say by now that she ain't lyin. Even Denise says she's not fakin it. Found a huge scar on the side of her head. Figures that's how she lost her memory.' _He met Rick's gaze and let out a sigh._ 'Man, we can't keep her locked up there forever. We gotta make a choice.'

And make a choice, they did. So far, Daryl hadn't regretted it. None of them had. Of course, it had only been a couple of weeks. But most people seemed to like her. And she was teaching them things none of them had ever thought of. Like how useful hand to hand combat could be against walkers or how deadly knife throwing could be. The woman was a veritable force to be reckoned with. She was still trying to figure out where she fit in. Not just in Alexandria, but in the world. Seeing as it was the only world she knew, she was at an advantage. She didn't have an old world to miss. But she still seemed lost. To him, anyway.

It had been a couple of days since he'd seen her. She kept mostly to herself, but managed to be as friendly as possible when people were around. It was when she was alone, and didn't know he was looking, that he saw the sorrow on her features. A deep set sadness that filled her eyes and seemed to drag her spirit down instantly. But it was always fleeting. Disappearing the instant she realized she'd dropped her facade.

"Brought you some coffee." he heard Carol say, turning to see her climb the last few rungs of the ladder with a thermos in her hand. She was wearing one of her button up sweaters. Woman dressed like a housewife these days. But he knew better. Carol was as deadly as they came. He nodded at her, helping her all the way up with one hand. He took the coffee with a grunted 'thanks', and turned back to look over the wall. She leaned against it, letting out a sigh and staring out into the dark.

"So... what's with you and amnesia-girl?" she asked, stealing a sideways glance just before he put the coffee to his lips. He stopped, lowered the thermos and glared at her.

"Her name's Lena. And what the hell ya mean?" he asked roughly. His tone didn't seem to bother her one bit. If anyone could handle him, it was Carol. The bond they had was something different. Nothing romantic or anything like that. But maybe brother and sister like. She was family. Simple as that. She smiled at him, turning a little and watching him as he took a long sip.

"I mean, you're always watching her from a distance. You go out of your way to talk to her. You've even been showering more." she grinned at him, nudging him with one hand. He twisted the cap back on to the thermos and set it down.

"Dunno what the hell yer talkin bout." he said, intentionally not looking at her. He moved past her to look over the other end of the watch tower. Carol just laughed a little.

"Sure you do. Hey, I'm not complaining. Especially if you're showering more." she joked, turning to look at him. "Just..." her expression sobered a little, that light of concern and care she had for him flooding her eyes, "Be careful, okay? We still don't know much about her. And she hasn't decided if she's sticking around. Don't get too attached just yet." She touched his arm, and he looked at her with a frown.

"I ain't attached." he muttered, "Just bein friendly is all. Woman's got no one. I know what that's like." he said, and Carol nodded. Before she could respond, a shrill whistle was heard, the sound of running heading for them from inside the walls. Both he and Carol stood at immediate attention, looking down.

"Daryl!" It was Carl, who stopped just in ear shot. "Come quick! It's Lena! Something's wrong!" Daryl immediately handed Carol the rifle and grabbed his crossbow, without a word going down the ladder and missing more than a few rungs on the way. He met up with Carl and they both started running toward the house where the infirmary and Lena's room were.

"What happened?!" he demanded as they rounded the corner.

"Denise said she had some sort of seizure." Carl responded, a little out of breath. All Daryl could do in response was run faster.


	6. "Not everything is what it seems."

'Leeeena...' _She heard the child calling from the darkness, the voice a massive echo all around her. She was trying to ignore it. The child never wanted her to stay in the dark, where Lena was safe and everything was quiet and peaceful. _'Lena, I want to show you something! Come look!',/em > The child urged, giggling afterward like she'd found the most amazingly entertaining thing. But Lena couldn't move. The deep, dark quiet always seemed to move her. Before she could respond, that's exactly what it did. She could feel herself floating around, toward a small blue light that only seemed to grow bigger and bigger the closer she got to it.__

__'Wait...' _she said, her voice echoing as loud as the child's._ 'Stop, I don't want to go there!' _she called out, a feeling of dread and fear enveloping her. The child giggled.__ _

__'Silly, Lena. It's time to remember!' _And suddenly, the light exploded around her.__ _

___And she was in the woods. There were two tents. But one was completely flattened, like someone had fallen on top of it. And just beyond it, two men were fighting. Asian and young, like her. One man was trying desperately to fight off the other, but was outmatched in both size and strength as the one on top of him began stabbing relentlessly into his chest. Over and over, he kept stabbing, and laughing. That was the worst part. The laughter, loud and terrible and everywhere._ _ _

___Lena's head hurt, more than she'd ever thought it could. All she saw when she opened her eyes was the young man stabbing the other. His eyes were crazy, wide and wild. And his laughter sent a numbing fear throughout her body. She couldn't have said how she did it, where the strength to stand up came from, or why she even moved toward the crazy person before her. But she did. And she knocked him over effortlessly, and wrestled the knife from his hand, kneeing him in the sternum before she slashed his throat open, blood blossoming in a sickening line ear to ear. And his eyes... shit, his eyes were still wide open and crazy._ _ _

___The other man was long dead, his wounds hidden by the blood soaked into the folds of his sweater. Her hands were shaking, she backed away, stopping when her back hit a tree. It was like she was seeing it all for the very first time. She didn't know where she was, who they were... who she was. And there was blood everywhere._ _ _

___Blood streaming down from the wound in her head, blood on her hands, blood on her arms. Just... so much blood._ _ _

__"Not everything is what it seems." _A child's voice said from beside her. Lena looked down, her hands still shaking, to see a girl no older than ten. But she wasn't just any girl. She was a walker. Her eyes were gone, her flesh was sunken and rotting, her hair was falling out in patches. Part of her shoulder was hollowed out, an arm hanging in threads. And her blackened smile was missing teeth, a portion of her lip drooping._ "Not everything is your fault." _The girl said, and reached for Lena.__ _

___All she could do was scream._ _ _

__She was still screaming when Denise tried to wake her up. Lena was so out of it, she'd thrown Denise to the ground and wrapped her hands around the woman's throat, her glasses flying across the floor and her hands desperately clawing to try to get Lena off. It took a full thirty seconds for Lena to come to her senses. She backed off Denise so fast that she knocked over the small table next to her bed, flattening herself against the wall, eyes wide and horrified. She couldn't even mutter a simple 'sorry'. All she could do was sit there and squeeze her eyes shut, praying to god that someone would just put her out of her damn misery._ _

__And many someones came. She heard voices. Rick, Denise, Michonne. They all tried talking to her, but she just buried her face into her knees, and tried to will them all away. Until she heard Daryl. His boots thudded into the hallway. She could hear him breathing, like he'd been running. She heard Rick tell him something, and Denise chime in. Then everything was quiet. So quiet, she wondered if she was imagining it._ _

__Then she heard his boots cross the floor, and the sound of something being set on the bed. "Lena..." his voice was so tentative, it almost hurt to hear. She could feel him crouching beside her, then the feel of his hand on her head, his fingers smoothing down her hair. "Hey, girly. Look at me." Slowly, and without really knowing why, she lifted her head. "Hey, yer alright." His eyes were so serious, and so gentle at the same time. She just wanted to drown herself in those blues and never wake up._ _

__She wasn't sure why she did it, or why he let her, but she pushed away from the wall and threw her arms around his neck. He went from crouching, to sitting on the floor. He hesitated at first, like he wasn't sure what he was supposed to do. But then she felt his arms, warm and strong, wrap around her. His heart was thudding in his chest, she could feel it hammering away. Probably because he'd been running. It was about then she realized there were silent tears pouring down her cheeks. She buried her face into his shoulder, closing her eye and desperately trying to get them to stop._ _

__"I got ya." he said softly. She heard someone come up beside them. It must have been Rick because Daryl just motioned with one hand, said, "It's okay. Go on. I got this." And a moment later the door closed and there was just silence. Daryl didn't rush her, or try to pull her off or say anything more. He just held her. And to say she was grateful was an understatement. Because she knew, as soon as he let go, she had to leave. She couldn't stay, not after what had just happened. She was an idiot to think she could give this a try, living a 'normal' life with a head like hers. _Stupid, stupid, stupid.__ _

__After a few minutes, she pried herself from him. Gently moving out of his grip and avoiding his eyes. She didn't want to see what was in them. She went back to the wall, wiping her face with her hands, pressing her back into the corner. He didn't move, just stayed there where he was sitting._ _

__"Denise told me what happened." he said, scooting back just enough to rest against the bed, his knees up and bent, his hands hanging over them. "Said you had another nightmare, and you... blacked out. Didn't know where you were, what you were doin." She could feel his eyes on her. "Lena. Look at me." There was a sternness to his tone that almost made her flinch. She lifted her eyes, expecting to see anger. But instead... there was nothing but compassion. "Ain't your fault. You didn't do nothin wrong." For a moment, she was silent. Then she let out a sob._ _

__"I was choking her, Daryl." she said, her voice was strained, like she was trying to keep herself from crying again. "I had my hands around her throat. I could have killed her!" she blurted out, then put her hands over her mouth, closing her eyes and shaking her head a little. When she let her hands fall, her voice was barely a whisper. "I can't do this... I can't stay here. I'm dangerous..." she pushed herself off the floor then, moving as quickly as she could to the closet where her few sets of clothes and her backpack were._ _

__She began yanking things off their hangers, desperately wanting to be anywhere else but here. She felt him come up behind her, his hands gripping her forearms and pulling her backward. "Stop it!" he ordered, "Dammit, stop!" he spun her around, holding her still. There was an instinct in her that played in her mind how she could get out of his grip and beat him back. But she froze instead, swallowing, meeting his fiery gaze. "Yer not dangerous, shit. Just.. stop." he slowly let her go, his hands gliding down her arms till they were no longer touching her. "Sit down. Talk to me. We'll figure this out." he urged her, taking a slow step back._ _

__"They... they told you what I did. What I did to Denise. How can you say I'm not dangerous?" she demanded, anger flaring up where sorrow and fear had been before. Anger was good. Anger she could deal with. "That's what I do! I black out and bad things happen! I can't remem-" and she stopped mid-sentence, eyes going wide. "Oh my god." The sudden realization hit her that all of this had happened because she'd remembered something. She remembered how she'd lost her memory in the first place. "Daryl..." she said his name, just before she felt a wave of dizziness wash over her. The room suddenly began to spin, she was ridiculously and instantly light-headed. Her legs gave out beneath her. She felt Daryl grab hold of her just before she hit the floor, his voice calling her name._ _

___"You're almost home, Lena."_ The girl giggled in Lena's mind, just as she slipped into the deep, quiet dark._ _


	7. "She jus needs a chance. Like I did."

"It's called Intermittent Explosive Disorder." Denise said, running her fingers along the line of a paragraph in the book she was holding. "It can be caused by injuries like the one that caused that scar." She looked up at Daryl and Rick, Michonne and Maggie, letting her eyes roam. "Basically causes her to black out and become violent. She's got no control over it. And, honestly, I have no idea how to fix it. Anger triggers it, even fear. And I'm sure the amnesia isn't helping. She didn't mean to do this." She said, motioning to the blossoming bruises on her throat. "And she can be snapped out of it. She stopped. So there's that."

Rick crossed his arms over his chest, looking down at the floor momentarily, thinking. "Basically, she's a bomb that could go off at anytime. And not just any bomb." He looked over at Daryl, who was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, looking all sorts of angry. "She's lethal. She knows how to kill people, and not just with weapons. We've seen what she can do with just her hands. Shit, she's been teaching us to do it." Daryl narrowed his eyes. "Having her here..." he looked at Denise and shook his head. "Do we really want to chance something like this happening again? She could kill someone next time. Whether or not she has control of it, it's a real problem."

"What're you saying?" Daryl demanded, his voice a whole lot angrier than it should have been. But no point in hiding it. He pushed off the wall, moving toward the whole of the group. "Throw her back out there? She'll die!" He looked all around. And Maggie stepped forward.

"I don't think that's the solution. She hasn't intentionally done anything to anyone. And she's proving she can be a resource to us. She didn't ask for this. We shouldn't just give up on her because it's hard to deal with." She countered, looking over at Denise. "What else does the book say?"

Denise sighed a little. "Not much. I mean, there weren't many studies done on it. And the ones that were involved medications that we just don't have access to. It does make a big note about keeping anger to a minimum. Getting her emotions under control." Michonne tilted her head a little.

"What about yoga?" She asked calmly. "Sounds like a joke, I know. But it has techniques for calming." Rick let his arms drop and he paced a little.

"Not sure that's a solution. Maybe long term. But for now? She can't be left alone. We may have to think about... confining her till we can think of a long term solution. For her safety as much as everyone else." Rick met Daryl's gaze. And Daryl threw up an arm.

"That's bullshit!" He growled out. "She's not a wild animal." He moved to the door, breezing past everyone. "We're not locking her up again. And if you want someone with her all the time, then fine. That's my job now. I'll move her to the empty house with me at the back lot. Make ya'll happy." He spat out, and yanked the door open, letting it slam against the wall as he went outside. He heard Maggie say, 'Let him go,' as he stepped out on to the sidewalk.

Try as he might, he just couldn't see her as a threat. Intentionally or not. She was... broken. Like him. If he gave up on her, if he made her believe she wasn't worth saving, then he was no better than all the other evils in the world she'd had to deal with. He was always willing to listen to Rick and the others, and usually they were the voice of reason. But he wasn't going to let them fight him on this. He couldn't explain why, couldn't put words to the need of it. But he had to take care of her, give her a chance. The same chance that had been given to him all that time ago. The world was shit. But it could still be good. People could still be good. And he was going to make damn sure he was going to be one of them.

* * *

Carol felt Daryl's hand on her shoulder, turning to look up at him. "How's she doing?" He asked gently, sitting down on the edge of the bed and looking over at Lena's still sleeping form. Carol shifted in her chair, following suit.

"She hasn't budged since she passed out. No fever or anything. I think she's going to be just fine." She said, reaching out and gripping Daryl's knee for a moment. "What'd everyone decide?" She asked cautiously, looking at his face. His jaw set into a fine line.

"They didn't decide nothin. I did." He reached forward and gently pushed some stray strands of hair out of Lena's face. "Rick thought we should lock her up again. I ain't lettin that happen." He let his hand fall back to his lap, glancing at Carol. "She jus needs a chance. Like I did." Carol slowly smiled, nodding lightly.

"You're a good man, Daryl Dixon." she said, standing up from the chair and reaching forward to grab the back of his head before placing a kiss on his forehead. Then she stepped away and headed for the door. "Whatever you choose, I'll support you as long as I can. I'm going to go talk with the others." And she stepped out of the room, closing the door behind her. For a long time, he just sat there, staring at the door. Thinking.

He wasn't sure he would ever consider himself a good man. But as his eyes moved back to Lena's peacefully sleeping face, he knew he'd never stop trying to be one. He didn't always succeed. And sometimes, he made the wrong choices. Sometimes, he fucked up royally. But deep down he knew, even without being able to explain it, that this was the right choice. He'd see Lena through this, he'd help her find a place here. And he'd prove to them that she was just as fixable as he was.

* * *

It was at least another hour before she began to stir, Daryl now in the chair at the bedside. He straightened up the moment she opened her eyes, reaching forward and grabbing her hand without a second thought. He wanted her to know she was safe, that she wasn't alone or in some place scary. She blinked a few times, then turned her head to look at him.

"Daryl?" She asked, sounding slightly confused. Then realization dawned on her and she let out a slow breath, closing her eyes. "Did I black out again?" Daryl squeezed her hand very softly.

"Naw, you passed out like a wuss." He quipped, smirking lightly at her. She opened her eyes and frowned at him. But it slowly turned into a light smile. She brought a hand up to her forehead, rubbing it idly before deciding to sit up. Daryl let her hand go, relaxing back a bit in the chair. "How you feelin?" He asked, studying her face.

"Terrible." she said, pushing her back against the headboard and looking down at her hands. She turned them over, staring at her palms. "I wish I knew how to control this... whatever this is. I wish I had my memory back, that I could remember... everything." Her eyes darted up then, going wide. "Oh my god, Daryl!" she grabbed his hand, which had still been resting on the bed. "I remembered something!" Her free hand went up to her mouth, like she couldn't quiet believe what she'd just said.

"That's great!" He said, scooting a bit closer, letting her hold on to his hand. "Right?" He watched her hand fall from her mouth to her lap. And the sudden intense pain in her eyes brought a nearly physical urge to him to just close the distance and hold her. But he stayed where he was, watching her.

"Those two men... that I couldn't remember if I killed or not. They were my brothers." Her voice was shaking as she said it. "Sim... he snapped. He just went crazy." Tears began to fall from her eyes, she had to look away from him. "He hit me over the head with a huge rock. Wei tried to stop him and he just..." She reached up and touched the scar beneath her hair, above her left ear. "He stabbed him. Over and over. He wouldn't stop. So I... I stopped him." The tears were hot, burning as they flowed down her cheeks. She'd had brothers. She remembered their names and how they died. But that was it. That was all that she had of her past. And it was... awful.

Daryl sat there in complete silence, watching her cry with that damned blank expression on her face. "Shit." He finally muttered and moved to her side, sitting next to her on the bed with his back against the headboard, an arm snaking around her, he pulled her into his form. And she let him, her side melding into him, the back of her head against his shoulder, cradled under his chin. "I'm sorry, girly."

She wasn't even angry at the 'girly'. He could call her girly all he wanted if he just kept holding her like that. Anything to make the pain pass. Her heart hurt in a way she couldn't remember it ever hurting. "It's gonna be alright. I'll take care of ya. Yer not goin anywhere. I mean it." She heard him say. And for a moment, she wondered if he was kidding. She'd nearly killed Denise, after all. But his other arm moved around her, completely enveloping her. And for the first time, she felt a real sense of safety and calm. The tears subsided, she closed her eyes and let out a deep breath. "We're gonna figure this out together." He said. And she believed him. She couldn't even say why. This man was a veritable stranger to her, and her to him. But she believed him. And for a long while, she just held on to his arms for dear life.


	8. "Be careful around him, Lena."

Dylan Rogers had been there a little over four months, showing up at the gate with a bag full of pilfered supplies and a nasty gash in his shoulder from intentionally running into a protruding tree branch. He'd practically had to beg to be let in, lying through his teeth at all their questions and playing the 'damsel in distress' to perfection. They'd fallen for it, like every other group he'd come across that he'd robbed blind, murdered some and moved on. Good times.

He was biding his time here, in this 'Alexandria'. Collecting little things, figuring out who he liked the least, who he wanted to gut, who he wouldn't waste his time on. It was great, not having a moral center. He danced a fine line between being a sociopath and a psychopath. The shrinks at the prison always had a hard time labeling him. He killed selectively. And terrorized selectively. And enjoyed every damn minute of it. The end of the world was a blessing for a bastard like him.

Despite his urges, he could fit in anywhere. He figured out the best way to fool people into complacency, and that's exactly what he'd done here. He was the 'guy next door'. Happy to lend a hand, not so great with weapons, but eager to learn and not beneath getting his hands dirty if need be. People warmed up to him almost over night, only one or two were suspicious of him. There were always a few, the ones who weren't too preoccupied with the end of the world to realize that there might be a wolf wandering around among the sheep. But for the most part, he kept them off his back by just playing the part he'd written for himself. He wouldn't give them a real reason to be wary of him till he felt like it.

When the redneck had show'd up about two months ago with the Asian chick, he'd wondered very briefly if she was like him. There was a moment, when he saw Daryl carrying her limp form into the infirmary, that Dylan thought he saw a glow to her. Of course, it was just probably because he was well and truly out of his mind. But he typically knew a born and bred killer when he saw one. And when he saw her? All the bells and whistles went off. To say he was more than a little instantly enamored with her was a complete understatement. Not only was she drop dead gorgeous, but a killer? It was a dream come true.

Unfortunately, he hadn't been able to have any real access to her. They kept her locked up till she healed up. Then there was that little incident with the town's glorified doctor. Now, that damned hillbilly wasn't more than two feet from her. That didn't mean Dylan wasn't watching. That didn't mean he wasn't studying her from afar. He joined her little 'self-defense' class, sat nearby during town meals, offered to take watch with her once or twice. Not more than that. He didn't want to seem too eager. But always, fucking Daryl was at her side. Like a goddamn puppy dog. Dylan hated dogs.

Now she was sitting on her porch, at the back of the lot, field stripping a 9mm, probably out of boredom. For a long time, he stood there in the shade of a tree and watched. She expertly took it all apart and put it back together twice before she set it aside and leaned her back against the beams of the overhang, legs stretched out before her, crossed at the ankles as she just looked at the world beyond the front steps. He kept waiting for a sign of Daryl. But there was nothing. And a slow, terrible smile crept up on his lips. _Finally._

* * *

It had taken a full week of constant prodding for her to convince Daryl to go out on a run with Aaron. She got why he stuck to her like glue. And she even appreciated it. Having him around seemed to help more than she thought he knew, like he helped her feel centered, calm and safe. But she was also feeling more and more like a burden as the days wore on. People had calmed down a bit more now, though some were still a little uncertain about being around her. Denise swore up and down that she wasn't angry and wasn't afraid of her. But Lena just felt miserable about the whole damn thing.

Rick was still wary of her, constantly checking up on her, or watching her when she was out and about despite the fact that Daryl hadn't left her side. Like she was a walking stick of TNT and he was waiting for her to go, 'Woo! Look at me!', and explode. Rick was a good guy, a strong leader with his people's best interests at heart. She had a feeling the only thing keeping him from locking her up or kicking her out was Daryl.

Carol was an advocate, too. And so was Maggie, even Michonne. She had to give those women credit. They came to 'relieve' Daryl, giving her lady time, offering friendship. And sometimes some ridiculously good cookies. Carol sure could bake. Bit by bit, Lena was opening up to them all, trying to figure herself out and the place she was destined to be in the world. But there was no one she confided more in than Daryl.

Part of that may have been because he was always around. But mostly? It was because he was quickly becoming her rock, her source of strength when she wasn't sure she had any left. And she cherished him for it. Not that she'd ever say that out loud. It was far easier, and more fun, to toss around sarcastic and witty banter with him.

He'd finally agreed to go on the run only when Lena agreed to let Carol come check on her whenever she wanted. And Lena had begrudgingly agreed not to leave the house alone. That had made her stomach clench a little, the thought that he didn't trust her. It was always there, hanging around her head, that he might not trust her to be around people which was the real reason he was always with her. Or at least that's what she'd convinced herself. Who could blame him? Or any of them, for that matter. She was dangerous, plain and simple.

Denise had explained the whole 'Intermittent Explosive Disorder' thing to her as best she could. And it made sense, for the most part. Denise also thought part of her nightmares and the blackouts was her memory trying to push its way through whatever block was in the way. Goody. Why couldn't she just sneeze the memories out? She could totally live having to walk around with a stash of tissues in her pockets.

"Enjoying the breeze?" She heard a voice say, her head suddenly whipping up at the sound of it, hand instinctively going to her side. She'd left her machete in the bedroom, on the nightstand. She was trying more and more not to walk around with it inside the walls. Not that she'd been outside of the walls since coming here. But still. When she saw Dylan standing there, she relaxed. But only ever so slightly.

She'd only had a few interactions with the man, but never anything lengthy and never alone. He seemed friendly enough, a little shy maybe. And she shouldn't have had any reason to feel nervous around him. But she did. There was just something about his eyes... a shadow, like darkness was creeping in around the corners... she straightened up a little, offering a light smile and swinging her legs around to plant her boots on the steps, still sitting.

"Yeah. Trying to. It comes and goes." She said, watching as he walked a little further toward her, hands deep in his pockets. He smiled brightly, stopping just before the bottom step.

"I like it. Wish we had more weather like this." He said, looking past her at the open door of the house. "Where's your boyfriend?" He asked cordially, letting his eyes fall back to her. She lifted both brows, then smiled.

"Who? Daryl?" She stood, crossing her arms comfortably over her chest. "He's not my boyfriend. And he's on a run. He'll be back in a few days." She said, a soft flush felt in her cheeks at the idea of Daryl being her boyfriend. _Holy crap, would that be a thing, right?_ Her face sobered a little. _Wouldn't it, though?_ The thought had honestly never occurred to her that she could have anything romantic with anyone. Ever. And least of all Daryl. He was an incredible man with so much respect and trust around here. And he was always so kind to her, so real. Something began to form in her mind. A thought, a feeling. A 'what if', pooling in the depths and waiting for her to cause a ripple. But she didn't have the chance when Dylan spoke up and broke her chain of thought.

"Really? Thought you two were a thing. Ya know, living together. I never see you two apart." He said, watching her carefully. She shrugged and cleared her throat a little.

"Nope. Just friends. He's... looking out for me." She said, and hoped he'd leave it at that. She didn't like talking about what happened with Denise. She didn't like to talk to people about how she was just a disaster waiting to happen.

"My mistake." He said, a spreading smile on his face, a flash of teeth. "Mind if I sit with you for a bit? I don't have pantry duty till later. Could use the company." He asked, slipping his hands out of his pockets. The movement drew her eyes to his forearms. And she blinked, pausing before meeting his gaze again. Then she smiled a little, about to say 'sure' when she heard Carol's voice.

"Dylan." One word. And it wasn't entirely friendly. She stepped up past him, hooking her arm into Lena's, holding on to her elbow gently. "What brings you by?" Lena had to look at Carol, the practiced lines of her face. All civility and fake friendliness. It was really clear to her that Carol did not like the man before them. And she couldn't help raising a brow at the older woman.

"Just saying hi. Saw her sitting by herself, figured I'd keep her company." He said, his eyes flashing something incredibly unkind, so fast Lena almost missed it, before he turned his eyes to Lena. "But I'll take a rain check, let you ladies have some girl time, deal?" He said to Lena, ignoring Carol's presence altogether. Lena nodded quickly, the tension in the air rolling over her like electricity.

"Sure." She finally got out. And Dylan nodded, smiled and wished them a good day before walking off. Carol stood there, hooked to Lena's arm for a long moment before she let her go, turning to face her.

"Be careful around him, Lena." She said, no amount of amusement in her voice. "I don't trust him." She patted Lena's shoulder before moving over to the porch swing and sitting. And Lena had to stand there a little stunned. For a very brief moment, she swore that Carol was going to say to be careful around him because Lena might hurt him. But it had been nearly the exact opposite. She quickly moved to sit next to Carol, one leg slightly up as she sat somewhat sideways, the swing swaying easily back and forth with both of them on it.

"Why?" She countered, though more out of confusion than anything. Carol met her gaze.

"Because there are good people in the world. And there are bad. Sometimes the bad ones are disguised as good ones. And sometimes the good ones are disguised as bad." She nodded at Lena, patting her knee with a small affectionate smile. Lena was silent, Carol's words wandering around her head. She relaxed back into the chair, her eyes wandering to the empty gun she'd left on the floorboards of the porch.

She knew what Carol was trying to say. Lena'd been labeled as bad because of what was wrong with her, but Carol knew different. And if she knew different about Lena... well, the amnesiac had no choice but to trust her about Dylan. Because as deadly as Lena could be, she had a pretty good feeling other people were just as deadly. If not more so. And far, far more evil.


	9. "It's a classic... apparently."

He was listening to her hum, her fingers strumming effortlessly on an old ukulele he'd found on a run. He hadn't actually expected her to know how to play it. And, for that matter, neither had she. She just picked it up and started strumming like it was second nature and surprised the crap out of them both.

Night was full on. The town was settled and fast asleep for the most part, except for those on watch. He had to admit, it was nice. Being there on the dark of the porch, the cool night air around them, listening to the soothing sounds of her humming and the plucking of the little instrument in her strong but delicate hands. His gaze was soft upon her, he couldn't help how endearing it was. Or the fact that it was bringing back memories of Beth.

Beth had been more than special to him. She'd brought him back to himself. And losing her like they had... he'd never really gotten past it. He'd learned to live with it, but the memory of her smile, her voice, her words still tore at him when he was alone. Tonight, however... her memory didn't hurt so much. Not with Lena there, her voice trailing around her in a lovely way. Daryl was sitting on the floor, his back to the wall next to the door, one leg stretched out and the other bent up. He was slowly cutting away at a piece of wood, not making anything in particular or really paying attention to what he was doing. His eyes were fully on Lena. And it warmed him to see her so calm, so... happy.

When she finished whatever song it was she'd been playing, she looked over at him with a bright smile, then tilted her head a little. "What?" She asked, questioning the look on his face. For a moment, he just kept staring at her. Then he shook his head ever so slightly, tossing the little piece of wood aside and sticking his knife back in his belt.

"Nothin. Jus reminded me of someone, is all. She liked to sing, too." He said quietly, looking down at the floor boards and brushing at the splinters he made idly with one hand. He heard her lift her feet up beneath her on the porch swing, setting the instrument aside.

"That was hardly singing." She said kindly, still smiling a little, folding her hands into her lap. After a long while, she motioned to him. "She was special to you, wasn't she." She said, more than asked. Of course, Lena had no way of knowing who Beth was. He hadn't ever mentioned her before. He glanced over at Lena and nodded, very slightly.

"Her name was Beth. She was Maggie's little sister. And she was... very special." He said, a soft sadness in his voice. He didn't have to say Beth was dead. It was there in his voice, a soft hitch in his words, the barest whisper of sorrow. Lena lowered her gaze. Then stood up, moving to sit next to him on the floor. Her shoulder touched his after she settled, her hands curled up in her outstretched legs.

"I'm sorry." She said, and he could hear that she meant it. It had always struck him as funny, the way people apologized for things they had no control over. But for some reason, he was still glad to hear it when it came to Beth. The whole world should be sorry for losing her. He simply nodded, then peered out into the dark. They sat like that for awhile. Neither one of them said anything, or really even needed to. They did that sometimes. Just sat in the quiet, with nothing but each other. And it was the most wonderful thing in the world. After awhile, though, he did break the silence.

"Going back out on a run sometime in the next few days. Need to resupply gas and propane. Glenn found some fliers for a place we haven't checked out yet. Hopin it's still standin." He looked over at her, swallowing lightly at how close she was. Her beauty seemed to strike him more and more with each passing day. The healthier she got, the stronger she was, the more lovely she seemed to him. And she could be damn sexy as hell when she wanted, without even trying. A smirk, a laugh, a flip of her hair and it had things stirring in him he hadn't felt in a long time. Of course, he told himself she was a damn gorgeous woman and he was just a hot blooded man. But times like this, when he could see her in the shadows barely a breath away from him, he couldn't help but feel that maybe it was more than that. She met his eyes and tilted her head ever so slightly, like a curious cat.

"So soon?" She asked, eyes searching. "You just got back this morning." He nodded, looking away.

"We're short handed with Abraham and his crew looking for metal scrap to fortify the south wall. Rick and Glenn are gonna head back to that vet hospital in Deerborn to see if we missed anythin. So yeah. I'll be headin out... with you." He intentionally said that part last, giving her a sideways look to gauge her reaction. She just grew still beside him, like a deer in headlights. But her face was a blank and her eyes moved away from him, staring out at nothing.

"Me...." she finally said. "Rick's okay with that? Letting the big bad beast out of his sights?" She said almost snidely, then shook her head. "Sorry. I didn't mean that." She ran a hand through her severely dark hair, a sigh escaping her soft lips.

"I suggested it to him. He knows we're short on people. And I promised I'd look out for ya." He reached across himself to touch her arm. "Hey, it's gonna be alright. You got this." He let his hand fall to his leg. "An I got you." She looked back at him, her face lightening a little. And she nodded. She didn't say anything after that. She didn't have to. They just both looked out into the night, the quiet dark surrounding them, waiting for the days to come.

* * *

And shit. _Shit shit shit._ "Daryl!" She called out from her modest bedroom. The house she shared with him didn't have much in it. It had been mostly empty when he moved her in there. And that hadn't really changed. It had what they needed. And she was good with that. So was he. He came marching into her room after she called his name, a pack on his back, his crossbow in his hands.

"What? Come on, we're gonna be late." He growled out. She turned to him, hands on her hips and shook her head, letting out an exasperated breath.

"I can't find my machete. Anywhere." She said, a soft sound of panic in her voice. She couldn't say why, but she didn't want to be outside the walls without it. She'd left it on the night stand. It was always there. Right where she could see it. They'd only been out of the house for a few hours that morning. And she knew it was there when she left. So where the bloody hell was it? Daryl crossed the floor to her side, glancing around at the disheveled bed and the open drawers of the night stand. She'd even moved it away from the wall to see if the machete had fallen behind.

"Check under the bed?" He asked, stepping around her to peer around. She just nodded, and then threw her hands up.

"It's gone. Someone took it." She immediately jumped to. Sure, she was probably just making an assumption, but her heart was hammering in her chest. She was freaking out a little about the whole run and not having the machete was so not helping her state of mind. As if he registered her growing frustration and fear, he grabbed her by the upper arms and gently turned her to face him.

"Hey. We'll find it when we get back. Couldn't have gone far. Okay?" He held her stare. "But ya gotta calm down." Her hair was in a hasty ponytail, a few stray strands wandering on each side of her face. He lifted one hand and curled the hair behind her left ear, his fingers trailing unintentionally along her scar. "Jus breathe for a minute." He said. And she knew he was right. She'd been working really hard to control her emotions these days. She closed her eyes and just let out a deep breath, leaning forward and pressing her forehead to his chest. And he let her.

"Sorry." She muttered. "Toning down the crazy now." She felt him chuckle a little, and she lifted her head. He was smiling ever so lightly. And she nodded. "I'm good now. Let's go." And she turned, hesitantly, fighting the need to look for the machete some more. She knew he was right. And she knew it was just a blade. But her fingers itched for it at the mere thought of exiting the gate. He followed her out of the room, down the stairs and outside. She grabbed her backpack on the way. The sky threatened rain. But they couldn't put off the run any longer.

Rick and the others had all met up earlier that morning with her and Daryl to go over what the plan was. And it all made sense. Head south, find the safety depot in Gray Lake, grab what they could find if the supplies were there, and come back. It shouldn't take more than a week, as long as no complications came up. A week out of the safety of Alexandria. A week she knew she could survive just fine on her own.

But things were different now.

Now she had Daryl, and people who were counting on her not to fuck up a supply run. Oh boy. What a change that was. And it didn't help her anxiety any. But with Daryl sturdy and strong at her side, his confidence at her abilities flowing off him in waves, she couldn't help but smile a little.

They met up with the others at the gate. She and Daryl took a pickup truck. Rick and Glenn took a car. And they split up about a mile out from Alexandria, Daryl turning down a dusty road. He reached to the radio and turned it on, pushing play on the tape deck. 'Don't Fear the Reaper' by Blue Oyster Cult started playing and she raised a brow at him, settled in the passenger seat. He shrugged.

"It's a classic... apparently." He muttered. She let out a soft laugh and shook her head.

"You're a classic." She joked, and he nodded.

"Damn right, girly." He said, staring out the windshield as the sky let loose and rain began to pour down, a harsh roll of thunder mingling with the music in the cab. She smiled at him, watching him quietly. _Damn right you are,_ she thought. Then looked out the passenger window to watch the broken world go by.


	10. 'You're a joke, is what you are.'

The opportunity was just far too good to pass up.

He'd heard about the runs that everyone was heading out on, leaving the town without much of its senior leadership. And that should have thrilled him to no end. He should have used that to his advantage and gone on a rampage. But it's not what peaked his interest, or had the gears turning in his head. No.

It was the fact that Lena was going on one of those runs. With just Daryl. And it was... perfect.

No one saw Dylan slip beneath the tarp of the truck, settling in between all the empty gas and propane canisters, his pack tucked between his legs, her machete attached to his belt, another knife at his other side and a handgun he'd managed to sneak out when no one was paying adequate attention. Needless to say, he was good at what he did. And what he was doing now? Well, that was not passing up the opportunity to gut Daryl Dixon and have Lena, finally, all to himself.

It was rare that he found himself enamored with a single individual. His hungers were usually far more broad, consisting of torturing and killing anyone who just seemed weak enough, or pissed him off enough. And then there was the stealing. The burning things down. All wonderful and heart warming things to this monster. But he'd found a rare gem in Lena, and he was more than willing to pass up a chance at serial killing to have some 'quality' time with her.

First thing's first... wait out the long ride in the back of the bumpy old Ford. Then, make nice work of Daryl's innards. After that... it would just be Dylan and Lena. And oh the wonderful terrible things that were running through his mind. He had a hard-on just imagining the fight in her, the uncontrollable anger he could drag out of her, the pain he could inflict on her. And what she could do to him. He had to close his eyes, willing the strain in his pants to settle, letting out a shuttering breath as rain pattered down onto the tarp. _Be patient,_ he told himself. _All in good time._

* * *

"Tell me something about yourself." Lena said beside him, her head resting in one hand as she watched him somewhat sideways in the passenger seat. Daryl stole a glance at her, a furrow of his brows in answer.

"Like what?" He asked, staring back out at the road, the windshield wipers flipping back and forth lazily. He didn't like talking about himself. It was pretty apparent. But he had to admit, she made it easy. He sometimes found himself revealing things to her that had taken him months, even years, to tell other people. It was a little perplexing, and welcome. After she revealed her memory about her brothers, he'd told her about Merle. Even told her about his parents. He couldn't have said why. Just thought it was important for her to know that sometimes family is fucked up, and that it wasn't on her what happened to her brothers. She'd seemed grateful, even compassionate, about his memories. That was something he had in abundance. Memories of things he wanted to forget. And she had memories she couldn't remember. What an odd pair they were.

"I don't know. Anything... like..." she paused, narrowing her gaze out the window. She'd let her hair down about an hour back. The long, thick black strands were cascaded down her shoulders, covering her scar and hiding the side of her face from him for a moment. "Tell me about what you did before all this." She motioned outside with her free hand, looking back at him. "Like, what job you had. The things you did." He took in a deep breath at that and let it out, thinking about what he would say. He had no reason not to answer her. He was pretty damn sure if she had things to remember, she'd reveal them to him if he asked her to.

"Did what I'm doin now, I guess. Jus survivin. I was a fuck up. Wasn't exactly an upright citizen, followed my brother round, got into all sorts of trouble cause of him. Cause I was stupid. Didn't think I'd amount to nothin." And part of him still felt that way, though he didn't say it out loud. He shifted his position a little in his seat, moving the truck around a busted shopping cart in the middle of the road. "Not much has changed, I s'pose." She straightened up a little, letting her hand fall.

"You're wrong about that." She said so firmly, he had to look at her. Her gaze was almost steely. "You're not stupid, or a fuck up. You're..." she narrowed her gaze, then nodded as if she had to say what she said next, "You're the best man I know. And I may not have much of a memory to fall back on. But I'm pretty sure it's safe to say you're the best man I've ever known." Her gaze softened a little, a soft and slow flush coming to her cheeks that just made her all sorts of lovelier. He didn't know what to say, he just looked at her, his face taking on a quietly cautious expression, like he was expecting it all to be a joke and for her to take back everything she said.

"I sometimes wonder if I should stop trying to remember who I was. Maybe I won't like 'her'." She looked away from him, breaking the connected stare. He looked back out on the road. "I think, what if she's a real bitch, ya know?" She did that sometimes, he noticed. Talked about her old safe as a completely separate person. "Then I watch you, and how you are with everyone. How respected you are, how tough and good and..." her words trailed off a little and she shrugged. "And I realize that who she was... who I was... it doesn't matter anymore. Cause she's gone. She died when I got this." She motioned to the side of her head, over her left ear. "And maybe that's not such a bad thing. Because now I can be good. I can choose to be better than what's been piled on me. Like you did."

 _Ah, shit._ His throat tightened, and he forced himself not to look at her. There were moments with her, things she said and did that just pierced right through him. Made him feel like maybe he really was as good a man as she made him out to be. And damned if he didn't want to be, for her. Daryl didn't know a whole hell of a lot about love. It was a foreign concept. He'd had plenty of one night stands, a few hookers, a quick fuck in a parking lot. But never anything concrete or even close to what could be called a real relationship. He didn't know what it felt like to fall in love, or be in love, or be loved in return. Not like that.

However, the more time he spent with her, the more she made him smile and come out of his shell and.... shit. He gripped the steering wheel a little, trying not to think about the fact that he was pretty sure this was what it was like... to fall in love with someone. Because it was scaring the crap out of him. "Yer givin me too much credit." He finally said. That was when she reached out and grabbed his free hand, giving him no choice but to look at her.

"And you don't give yourself enough." She said softly, giving one nod in his direction before squeezing his hand and looking back out the window without letting him go. He let his gaze go back to the road, not even attempting to move his hand away from hers.

The world was changing again. All because of her. And for the first time, he really had a word for it. Love. Shit, shit, shit. A war had started between Daryl's head and heart in that moment. His heart wanted nothing more than to profess how he felt, the affect she had on him even only after a few months, the way he saw her. But his head kept telling him that she deserved better, and that he'd just fuck up her life more than it already had been, and that she was so much better off without him.

He could hear his long-dead brother's voice ringing in his ears. _'You're a joke, is what you are.'_ He frowned slightly. _'Fuck you, Merle.'_ He thought to himself. And pushed with all he had, and all he was, to forget for a little while longer that there was no way he would ever be able to be with a woman like Lena.


	11. "Someone's been cleanin house."

It took two full days of nearly non-stop driving to get to the depot. The storm hadn't helped, causing a wash out of one of the main roads. They'd had to detour and lost precious hours because of it. They longer they were out, the longer Alexandria was without them. It didn't help that they were going a bit stir crazy, taking turns stuck behind the wheel.

Gray Lake was a relatively small town, on the outskirts of a small lake surrounded by summer houses. The depot was a newer place, erected just before the world fell apart. It had large wire fences all around it, a building at the center, a couple of gas pumps and several trucks for maintaining roads sitting off to the side, untouched and probably unused. Daryl used the truck to push through the gate, crashing it open. Once inside, she hopped out, closing the gates again and using a bungee cord to secure it. From first glances, it was empty. No walkers inside, and no sign of people. He parked the truck and hopped out, crossbow in his hand. She met his side and he handed her a long, serrated hunting knife. She took it with a glance, sliding it into her belt and she unsheathed her gun, twisting the silencer on to it that Rick had given her.

"Let's do a sweep of the outside first." Daryl said, stepping farther away from the truck. "Then we'll hit the main buildin. See what we can see." She just nodded beside him, and followed. They started to the left, following a trail along the fence. It was a pretty wide open place, but the larger building in the center hid a lot from view. Like the rather immense pile of bodies burnt to ash just to the left of it. They both got on guard, weapons out and ready, Daryl peering down the length of his crossbow as they rounded the ashen heap and made their way toward the back of the building.

There wasn't anything to see back there. Just dumpsters and random debris flittering about. There was a busted motorcycle on its side, which Daryl walked up to and knelt beside, looking it over. "Hang on." He said, sliding his crossbow behind him and reaching into one of the saddle bags that was attached to the bike. He began to pull out whatever was in it. A screw driver, a wad of dirty cloth, a roll of money, all of which he tossed aside. The only thing he pocketed was a zippo lighter and a box of matches, standing back up and holding his crossbow again, nodding at her. They moved on, rounding the building to the other side only to find another pile of bodies, much smaller than the last but burnt to a crisp just like the other.

"Someone's been cleanin house." He said quietly to her. She barely glanced at him, clenching her jaw a little and turning her eyes when the sound of a creak met their ears. A door to the side of the building was open, swinging idly of its own volition. Daryl and Lena exchanged glances, then he moved forward, making his way to the door. She was right behind him, quiet and practiced without knowing really how. Just that she was.

Inside, it was a whole different story to the outside. The place was a mess. No one was cleaning in here. There was debris everywhere, overturned crates, busted pallets, a couple of bodies. Though those weren't burnt. They warily made their way around the large area, passing disheveled offices, rows of overturned shelving that had once carried tools for town utilities, and making their way bit by bit throughout the place. It wasn't till they went up a set of stairs to the second floor that they ran into their first walker. It was just standing there in the hallway, facing a wall, missing most of its right arm and both breasts. It was shirtless, missing its nose and a huge chunk of what used to be long blond hair. It turned when it realized they were there, and she stepped forward, pulling the knife from her belt and driving the walker backward into the wall, slipping the blade easily into its empty right eye socket. The blade slipped out with a sickening sound as the walker crumpled to the floor, well and truly dead.

Daryl inched his way past her, giving her an approving nod. She slipped the knife back into her belt and followed. It was so quiet up there, it was unnerving. She felt like there should have been far more noise. A creak in the floor, wind whistling in an open window. Something. But all they found were abandoned rooms, empty offices and a whole lot of mess.

The only thing of note was a makeshift sleeping space in the back bathroom. A pile of pillows and blankets, some candles, some magazines, some food wrappers and empty cans. Daryl knelt down, picking a can up and sniffing it, pulling it away instantly and curling his nose. "This has been here awhile." He tossed the can onto the blankets, standing up. "Whoever it was, they're long gone."

"Let's check the outer buildings for the propane. Maybe we'll have better luck." She suggested, stepping back out of the room. He followed, then took the lead again. They made their way back downstairs and for the door they'd come in. But Daryl slowed when he saw the door was closed.

"Did you close that?" He asked, glancing at her over his shoulder. She stepped up to his side and furrowed her brows, shaking her head.

"No. Maybe the breeze did it." She said, but then remembered how quiet everything had been. Even upstairs, they would have heard the door slam, right? Lena began to feel an unease settle into her bones, her hand gripping the gun a little tighter. Daryl seemed to pick up on it, glancing around them in the quiet, staring into the mess and shadows all around them.

"Come on. Let's get outta here." He said softly, and moved forward. Once outside, they checked their surroundings again. Nothing had changed. So it probably had been the wind. But still, something felt off. And she couldn't quite shake it. They made their way to the smaller buildings. They were more like large storage units than anything an office would be in. Two were busted open already, the contents mostly gone or destroyed. The rest they had to break in to, one at a time. But they only found plows for the town's trucks, a pair of riding lawn mowers, and several tall stacks of packed dirt. Daryl heaved a sigh at the last one.

"Alright. Let's check the gas pumps. Looks like propane's a bust." He said, turning around to look at her. But his eyes went wide, and he grabbed her, yanking her toward him and back into the shed just as a huge explosion shook the world around them. They both fell backward into the stacks of dirt, the smell of earth filling the air as she landed on top of him, and bags landed on top of them both. After the dust settled, Daryl sat up, pulling her aside and looking her over. "You alright?!" He demanded. She was a little dazed, and dirty. But no worse for wear.

"What the hell was that?!" She said, breathing heavily as he got to his feet, holding his hand out to help her up. Then he inched his way to the door, crossbow ready.

"The truck. It drove into the gas pumps." He said, and she knew he wasn't kidding. The smell of burning fuel was suddenly thick in the air. She raised her gun, following close behind him as they exited the storage unit. They were both smart enough to know that trucks didn't drive themselves. Not to mention Daryl had the keys. They weren't alone.

Fire boiled up over their heads, billows of thick black smoke blanketing the sky. The coolness of the day was drowned out by the immense heat. The truck was in pieces everywhere, the cab burning as much as the pumps were. They looked around quietly, cautiously. And that's when Lena saw the gate. "Daryl..." She said loud enough for him to hear. One word, but that was all it took for him to glance at her, and then look in the same direction she was staring. The gate was wide open, and walkers were coming. At least a dozen, maybe more, attracted by the explosion and the fire. They both stepped backward, turning to head for the other end of the compound. They'd have no choice but to climb the fence. They'd have to figure out the rest once they were over it. Like who the hell was messing with them, and how they planned on getting back to Alexandria without transportation.

Up and over, Lena went first. Daryl followed right behind. They had to kill a couple of walkers that had come wandering in their direction. Lena pointed to a row of houses, just at the bottom of a hill. "Come on!" Daryl yelled, grabbing her hand. And they both set out on a dead run. They had to get to shelter before the place became overrun by walkers. If they were caught out in the open, they'd be as good as dead.

In the distance, standing hidden between the town's trucks, was Dylan. Watching, smiling. Once the walkers were all preoccupied with the fire, he'd make his way out. Follow Daryl and Lena. And play with them a little bit more. After all, it was the end of the world. Which meant he had all the time he needed...


	12. "I didn't mean on the floor, you dumbass."

'You're not supposed to be here right now!' _Lena heard the girl whisper, the child's voice echoing and fearful in the void, bouncing around her like it didn't just have one place to be._ 'There's a devil out there. He doesn't want you to get home!' _The voice moved, again and again, reverberating like there were walls all around._

'What devil?' _Lena asked, the dark seemingly rippling at the sound of her own inward panic. For a long moment, there was no answer. And Lena worried that the child had faded into the quiet dark. But then her voice screamed right next to Lena's ear, a high-pitched howl that would have made Lena run if she could have. Then the child yelled, over and over._

'Wake up, Lena! Wake up, Lena! Wake up Le-'

"-na, damnit! Snap out of it!" She froze in place at the sound of Daryl's growling yell in her ear, the feel of his arms steely and strong, wrapped around her in a bear hug from behind. She could feel his heart slamming against her back, rapid and caged. It took him a moment to realize she wasn't struggling anymore. In fact, she was staring still and wide eyed at the nine walkers on the ground. Some of them Daryl had killed, the rest she had. "You good?" Daryl demanded, his grip loosening ever so slightly.

"Yeah." One word. And he let her go. She could apologize for the crazy later. He urged her forward, and they darted across the street, bounding up the steps of the first house they came to. Daryl had to kick in the door, and they quickly shoved a couch against it, hastily going on guard afterward. And all they did was listen, the sound of their hearts like a stampede in their ears.

There was silence around them. If there were walkers around, they hadn't heard the door busting open. But Daryl stepped forward anyway. "Wait here." He ordered, his voice holding a gruffness that made her want to recoil from him. But she just stood there, alone in someone's living room, waiting as Daryl cleared the house.

And she breathed.

In and out, over and over, a steady rhythm till her heart settled and her emotions calmed. She'd blacked out again. She hadn't even seen it coming, then again... she never did. She'd mowed those walkers down, which wasn't a bad thing. What was a bad thing? The fact that she'd blacked out in front of Daryl. And he reacted the only way someone could, of course. With anger and frustration. She'd heard it in his voice.

Eventually, Daryl made his way back to the living room, slowing his steps when he saw her standing there in the exact spot he left her. He looked her up and down. "You hurt?" He asked, his voice still a little rough, but kinder now. That was almost worse. She didn't deserve kinder. She nodded slightly, unable to look at him. She forced her legs to move, slipped the knife into her belt, headed to the nearest chair and sat. She set the gun in her opposite hand on the table next to her, beneath a lamp that looked like something out of a Better Homes and Gardens magazine. He just watched her, then moved to the door, checking to make sure the couch was firmly against it before he tossed his crossbow down on it and sat beside it with a plop.

The silence was almost deafening.

"I'm sorry." She finally managed, her voice sounding strange in the still air. He didn't look at her, just sat back completely, draping an arm along the back of the couch. He shook his head slightly.

"Nothin to be sorry for." He countered, nudging a throw rug with his boot. "Dead walkers are a good thing." He gave her a sideways glance, a slight smirk on his lip, quick and enticing. She couldn't help but smile back, before settling completely into the chair. It amazed her how quick he was to just accept her, to deal with her issues like they were no big deal. And she loved him for that.

She froze in place, not that he noticed. The sudden realization that she was falling for Daryl Dixon was like a piano being dropped on her head. Her palms grew sweaty. And she let her eyes drift to him, her dark brown hues wide and focused on him in the shadows. She was told a story once about how there were moments when people just woke up and realized how much someone meant to them. She'd never really taken much stock in it. But sitting there, watching him breathe, seeing him thinking, the depth of his eyes so compassionate and intelligent, she knew it was true.

All the things he was for her, the way he was around her, and who she was when she was with him... all of it accumulated into her falling in love before she even realized it was happening. She startled a little when he turned his eyes to her, and she blinked.

"So someone's messin with us." He leaned forward, then, resting his elbows on his knees. "There's too many walkers between the compound and here. So we're prob'ly safe for now." She swallowed, then let out a sigh.

"What do you want to do? We could try to make a run for it." She offered, pushing her hair out of her face instinctively. He shook his head.

"Too close to night fall. Too risky. We'll hunker down here." He stood up then, and began moving around the room. He grabbed the coffee table after shoving the stuff off it onto the floor, hoisting the wooden piece of furniture into the air and settling it on top of the couch and against the door. Then he grabbed his crossbow and headed toward the hall. "Come on." She didn't hesitate. She grabbed her gun and stood, following him into the kitchen. Together, they shoved the fridge in front of the back door. Then they went around the house, which really wasn't all that big, and made sure all the curtains were closed and the shades or curtains drawn. It made things really dark, but she managed to scrounge up a few candles to light.

There was only one bedroom. Technically, there'd been two. But the other was used as some sort of office space. She lit a candle and set it on the nightstand. The bed was large, covered in fancy purple blankets and silky like sheets. She had to smirk at it. She couldn't remember ever seeing something so ridiculously unnecessary. "You should sleep." She heard Daryl say, turning to see him leaning against the door frame, his crossbow hanging from one arm. He was watching her, something hidden in his dark blue eyes. "I'll keep watch."

Lena met his gaze. "We should both rest. Even if we don't sleep, we'll need the energy." She turned a little to face him. "It's quiet enough. We should hear anything or anyone trying to get in." Which was true. And it wasn't exactly like they could just go out a door. The only way out was the window in the bedroom they were standing in. They'd made sure of it. It opened up to a short roof over the back door. They could get out onto it and hop down easily, making a run for it if need be. For a moment, she thought he'd argue with her. But instead he stepped in, closing the door and setting his crossbow down on the bed. He moved to the tall dresser in the corner and began to drag it. She quickly moved to help him. They settled it against the door.

Then he moved to the floor beside the bed and sat down, dragging the crossbow into his lap. She smirked at him. "What're you doing?" She asked, putting a hand on her hip, watching him in amusement. He looked up at her, raising a brow.

"What's it look like?" He coiled the strap on the crossbow, watching her. "Restin, like you said." She laughed a little, then, stepping toward him.

"I didn't mean on the floor, you dumbass." Lena smiled, then motioned to the bed. "It's big enough for us both. Unless you have a serious aversion to purple." She quipped, sitting on the edge of the bed. He narrowed his gaze on her, looking from her to the bed and letting out a little growl before standing up.

"Yer the dumbass." He muttered, nudging her lightly as he walked around to the other side of the bed and laying down with a hop, the bed shifting with his weight. He didn't bother going under the covers. He crossed one arm behind his head after shoving some of the fancy pillows on to the floor. Then crossed his booted feet at the ankles. She just chuckled and laid down beside him, choosing to be on her side and facing him.

"I really am sorry, ya know." She offered up after a moment. He turned his head just enough to see her. Then he lifted his free hand and slipped some of her hair behind her ear. She'd noticed how often he did that, the tentative feel of his calloused fingers trailing along her skin was oddly pleasant.

"I know." He said. "Go to sleep." Then he let his hand fall. She watched him for a long time in the candlelight. He never closed his eyes, just laid there in silent thought. Eventually, though, tiredness won her over. And she slipped into quiet sleep, the last image in her mind the one of Daryl Dixon laying at her side.


	13. "He could've picked us off when we were runnin."

Daryl couldn't sleep. Everything was a mess. They had no gas or propane to bring back. No vehicle. All their supplies were in flames. They were days from anyone coming to the rescue. And someone was seriously messing with them. People usually just shot at him or kidnapped him. None of this dicking around crap. He didn't like to be cornered. And he sure as fuck didn't like being played with. More than all that, though, he really didn't like that Lena was in just as much danger as he was.

He turned his head to look at her. She was curled up on her side, hands folded beneath her face, her knees bent, pressing lightly into his thigh. She was breathing steadily, her slanted eyes closed and her face as calm as ever. The blackouts seemed to take something out of her. Maybe not energy, but more like her power. He could see how much she hated it, how much of a burden she thought she was. But he didn't see her like that.

He'd watched her take those walkers down. She was like a tornado, destroying everything that barred her path. It was both amazing and scary. And really impressive. If they could find a way to use that strength and power and keep her emotions in check at the same time, there'd be no stopping her. But one problem at a time.

At the moment, the big issue was making it through the night and figuring out who the hell was after them. The hours passed in complete silence. It began raining again just as early morning broke, soft rumbles of thunder mingling in the quiet. He reached over, propping himself up on one elbow, and gently smoothed his hand down her upper arm. "Lena, wake up." He said softly. He felt her stir. She opened her eyes, blinking at him sleepily. Then she stretched, the whole length of her body lining up against his before she relaxed on to her back. He couldn't help the sudden hitch in his throat, the fluttering in his stomach. He had to clear his throat a little.

"We should make our way out, see if we can find a vehicle." He said, turning away and getting off the bed, hooking his crossbow over his shoulder, the strap across his chest. He rubbed his hands through his hair hastily and then down his face, taking a deep breath and letting it out in an attempt to ease the sudden rush of need she'd brought about in him. Then he moved to the window, pulling the curtain aside to peer out. She stood up, blowing out the nearly melted candle, grabbing her gun and tucking it into the back of her jeans. She stepped up to his side.

The walkers had thinned out considerably. They could still see smoke up on the hill, the gas fire probably still burning strong even with the downpour. He opened the window, shoving the screen out. "Come on." He said, and he hoisted himself out onto the small, triangular roof, getting a foot hold and turning around to help her out. Once there, he took a good look around before lowering himself down and letting go, landing a little awkwardly and backing up into a bush. She followed suit, feeling Daryl catch her a bit when her feet hit the ground. And they were off, headed for the treeline like they'd discussed when they first thought to use the window as an escape.

The rain was steady, soaking into their clothes and hair. But they both ignored it. Daryl admired that she didn't let the little things get to her, glad she didn't have an aversion to getting down and dirty when need be. Once they hit the trees, they just kept going. They could have looked around the town for a car, but with whatever asshat there was still probably out there waiting for them, their safest bet was hoofing it to the highway and snagging something there.

They kept a steady pace for awhile, the rain pattering around them, bouncing off leaves as they made their way through the trees. It wasn't a particularly dense wood, which made the traveling easier. If they'd calculated right, the highway should have been somewhere on the other end, just east of Gray Lake. For a brief moment, Daryl thought they might just be home free.

They burst out of the woods onto the pavement, and were met with a heavily congested graveyard of a highway. There were cars everywhere, back to back, bumper to bumper. And there were walkers, too. They both instantly crouched down beside a rusted out Lincoln. There weren't more walkers than they could handle, but they also didn't want to draw attention to themselves. He peered through the foggy windows, then over the hood. "Come on." He whispered, "This way." And he made his way around the front of the car, staying low, moving quick, Lena right on his heels.

They wormed their way around, zigging and zagging through the river of vehicles till he found what he was aiming for. There was a two door hatch back parked off to the side of the road, free and clear of the mess. It looked in tact, possibly usable. He tugged at the handle. It didn't open. She went around the other side and tried the passenger door. No luck. He looked around, looking for something he could muffle the sound of breaking glass with. He settled for a backpack that was leaning up against the tire of a pickup. He pressed it to the driver's side window, then pulled his gun out of its holster, pressing the muzzle deep into the fabric. He shot once, a reverberating pop and a thudding crack were heard. But nothing loud enough to get the attention of the walkers.

He dropped the bag and pushed against the broken glass till it fell inward, and he unlocked the doors. They both got in, Daryl shoving the broken glass onto the floor boards as he reached for the wire box to hotwire the car, his left leg stretched outside the car so he could get a better angle. That's when the sound of a gunshot rang out, and his leg instantly felt pain. Searing and jarring all at once, blood splattered around him as he cried out, dragging his leg into the car as he nearly piled himself on top of Lena. "Daryl!" He heard her cry out, hands holding him to her. He looked at his leg, a nice gaping hole in his thigh, bleeding profusely.

"FUCK!" He swore, breathing quickly. "Run!" He said, and reached around her to open her door again. They both piled out, Lena hooking an arm around his waist. Walkers began moving toward them. There weren't any further gunshots. But neither one of them was going to take any chances. Daryl spent two arrows as they made their painful way down an incline into a field, downing walkers. She stabbed another in the head with her free hand, yanking the blade out as they went. He could feel his leg becoming heavy beneath him, the slick wetness of his blood soaking into his ratty black jeans. It hurt like a sonofabitch. But he kept moving, and so did she.

Eventually, they came up to a farm house, panting and mostly out of breath. It was shuttered up and worn out, looking like it had seen better times even before the end of the old world. She helped him up the steps, setting him down, eyes wide and searching the area frantically. Then she put her gun down, and practically ripped the buttons on her shirt as she took it off, a white t-shirt beneath. She ripped the shirt to shreds, using the knife, then wrapped a strip around his thigh above the wound. "Sorry about this." She said to him, watching his face, then she tied both ends and tugged. Hard. He hissed out between his teeth, pain immense and instantaneous as she tied it firmly in place. Hurt like fucking hell, but he knew it was necessary. He had to fall back on to the porch for a moment, hands going to his face. She put a hand on his chest, then. "Hang on."

Lena got up and moved to the door. She turned the handle and it gave easily. She disappeared inside before he could protest about her going in alone. After a moment, he heard a few pops from her silencer. He turned onto his side, grabbing up his crossbow and growling as he forced himself to his feet. "Lena!" He called out her name in worry, moving to the door, his foot not quite cooperating with him. A moment later, she appeared, hands moving to him.

"There were a couple of walkers in the kitchen." She said plainly, helping him into the house and kicking the door closed behind her. She helped him to a rocking chair in the corner. He sat with a grunt, a hand moving to the wound in his leg. "I need to get that bullet out." She said, putting her gun down and disappearing again, this time into a room beyond. The place was a mess. Someone had ransacked it. Even most of the furniture was in bits.

She came back a moment later with a steak knife, some dish towels and a bottle of Jack she'd found probably from the kitchen. He just looked at her, breathing heavily. "Shit." He said. She smiled at him lightly, kneeling down, her butt on her feet, as she peeled apart the material in his pants to see the wound better. She used a towel to wipe at the blood, then opened the bottle of alcohol.

"Ready for this?" She asked. He just grimaced a little and gripped the sides of the rocking chair. She took that as her cue, and poured the Jack on his wound. His head went back, the rain wet stretch of his neck exposed as he hissed against the pain. She dipped the knife into the bottle and simply went to work. It felt like an eternity, but she was actually pretty quick about getting the bullet out. The whole ordeal took less than a minute, and fuckity-fuck did it hurt.

"Sonofabitch...." he muttered, relaxing his hands, taking in a deep breath and letting it out fully. He felt light headed. She handed him the bottle of Jack and told him to drink it.

She cleaned his wound up as best she could, using the towels to make a better bandage and then wrapped the tie she'd made out of her shirt around it. Once she was through, she simply let out a sigh and then sat back completely on her ass, holding his leg in between her two, looking up at him. Her skin was glistening with rain and sweat, her hair sticking to her, tussled from all the mayhem. He met her eyes and they just stared at each other for a long moment, silently taking stock of everything that had just happened.

"He could've picked us off when we were runnin." Daryl finally said, his voice a little labored but no worse for wear. "Whoever he is. Stupid bastard. I'm gonna rip his throat out, fucking asshole." He mumbled on before taking another swig of the Jack and then resting the bottle between his thighs. She squeezed his leg a little.

"How do you feel?" She asked, giving him a sheepish and concerned look. He closed his eyes a moment and shook his head.

"Had worse." He said. When he opened his eyes, she was still watching him. There was a look on her face he couldn't quite place, but it made him feel... calm. He motioned to her. "You didn't black out." He said. And she blinked at him, like it hadn't even occurred to her.

"I didn't." She said very softly, her eyes moving to the bandage she'd made in his leg. All the mayhem, the fear and the anger she'd felt, and she breezed right through it. He couldn't help but wonder why. And he could see she was wondering the same thing. "Figure it out later." She said then, looking back at him and getting to her feet. She stood over him, then reached forward with both hands and pushed his hair out of his eyes, running her fingers through his wet strands. "Don't go anywhere, Daryl Dixon." She leaned forward and placed a kiss on his cheek. Something he totally had not expected. It stilled him and silenced him at the same time. She straightened up and smiled at him. "Gonna look around, see what I can find."

And she left him sitting there, his heart like a wildfire in his chest, unstoppable and suddenly only burning for her.


	14. "I found paydirt. Sort of."

Lena left Daryl in the living room, moving back into the kitchen which was just as ransacked as the rest of the house. Her quick look for walkers hadn't really afforded her time to look for anything that could help them. But as she stepped on a shattered picture frame, lifting her foot to look at the image of a man pushing a little girl on a swing, she had to stop and just look around quietly, standing in one spot.

She hadn't blacked out. She hadn't gone crazy violent when Daryl was shot. And, at first, it didn't make much sense. With the help of the others and Daryl, she'd figured out her emotions and amnesia had a big part to play in her violent blackouts. Anger and fear could send her reeling before she knew it. And she was angry, even now, that Daryl had been shot. She was furious, actually. But it was different.

It wasn't a fear for her own life, an anger at being attacked by walkers or whatnot. It was anger and fear for someone else, which seemed to make a world of difference. And not just any someone else, but Daryl. The one man in the world who could see past all that was wrong with her and see her for who she could be, uncaring of who she used to be.

She brought her hands up to her face, realizing that they'd begun to shake. She smoothed them over her skin, up into her hair, dragging through the wet strands. Daryl had been right when he said whoever it was could have shot them while they were running through field. It would have been easy. But nothing happened. It made her feel... strangely calm. She let her hands fall, and began sifting through the debris in the kitchen. She moved from room to room, thinking the whole way. Their enemy's objective wasn't to kill them outright. It was to terrorize first. Maim. Then probably kill. Strange, that she thought of it that way. Like a battle situation. It kept her focused, so there was that at least.

She didn't find much. Just an old rusted rifle and a few shot gun shells, neither one of which would do them any good at the moment. It wasn't till her foot accidentally kicked a box beneath a bed upstairs that she found gold. Inside the box was, of all things, two grenades. And not flash bangs or smoke bombs. Real, shrapnel wielding grenades. "Shit." She said, a grin spreading on her lips. She slipped them into a pillowcase, carefully, along with the shot gun shells and a sewing kit she'd found. She found some real bandages after that. Gauze and an ace wrap. Then headed back to the living room, only to find that Daryl wasn't there. She froze.

"Daryl..." she called out, her voice shaken, turning around to look for him, only to collide with him as he turned the corner. They both fell over, Daryl landing on top of her with a hiss of pain, barely having enough time to catch himself so he wouldn't squish her. But the pain in his leg was obviously bad because his arms shook and he had to lower his head to her shoulder, breathing heavily. Her arms instinctively grabbed his sides beneath his vest. "Oh god, I'm so sorry!" She muttered, waiting there beneath his weight. After a moment, he just lifted his head and rolled off of her, flattening himself onto his back and against the door frame between the living room and kitchen.

"Shit." He said, a hand on his forehead. "You gotta stop hittin me." Lena frowned at that, sitting up.

"I didn't hit-" She stopped when she saw him giving her an amused look. She couldn't help but smirk a little. "Jerk." She said, then reached for the pillow case which she somehow managed to not drop hard. "I found paydirt. Sort of." She said, pulling out the contents one at a time till she came to the grenades. She held the pair out for him to see and he grinned at her.

"Paydirt is right." He said, letting his hand fall to his stomach. And then he attempted to sit up, but she pushed him back down before setting the grenades on the pillow case. "Hey, lemmie up." He growled at her. And she just shook her head at him.

"Stay down, you big baby. I found some things to fix your leg up better." She said, scooting toward his thigh and unwrapping the makeshift bandage. The bleeding had mostly stopped, but it looked angry. "Where were you, anyway?" She asked, unwrapping the clean gauze she'd found. He slipped a hand beneath his head and sighed at her.

"First of all, not a baby. Second, I had to piss." He said, his blue eyes watching her like she was the only thing in the world there was to see. She worked quickly at sewing his leg up. And he took it like a champ, gritting his teeth and managing only to swear a few times. Once she had the ace bandage securely in place, she sat back against the wall and just watched him. "Yer a butcher." He muttered, letting his head slip completely to the floor. She chuckled a little, tossing a rag she'd used to clean her hands with aside.

"Like I said, big baby." She nudged his foot with her own. Then sighed. "He's terrorizing us. This is a game to him. He wants us scared, vulnerable... hurt." She said, motioning to his leg. "He knows we're here, and he's good with it. He's biding his time, before he really comes for us." She felt him frown at her. She didn't even have to look at him.

"What makes ya think that?" He asked then, this time sitting up without her forcing him back, pressing himself against the opposite wall. She just studied his features for a moment, taking in his strong arms, the firm set of his jaw, the peak of his chest beneath the worn out sleeveless shirt and vest. He was... tasty. The word brought an involuntary flush to her face. She cleared her throat a little and looked away. _Keep your panties in check, Lena,_ she told herself.

"Makes sense. I can't help but feel like all this is normal for me somehow. Like I've been through a similar situation before." She picked up one of the grenades, turning it in her hands. "He thinks we lost all we had back in the depot. And I highly doubt he plans on us having grenades." She looked up at Daryl with a little smile. "I say we make a surprise or two. He's going to come for us. And when he does," she tossed the grenade at Daryl, who caught it without thinking, "He's going to end up missing a few parts."

Daryl smiled at her, and the sight of it sent tingles all over her body. She couldn't help but smile back.

It was time to get to work.


	15. "I wouldn't change anything about you."

If Daryl thought Lena was incredible before, he certainly thought it now. It was strange, how in her element she seemed. And he couldn't help but be a little proud of her. Not a single blackout in sight, and she was handling it all like a pro. For the first time, really, he wondered... who was she before? How did she know all the things she knew? Like how to make a trip wire with a grenade. Sure, it was something someone could figure out easily enough. He could do it himself. But watching her using sewing thread to create one hell of a surprise for their pursuer made him smile in spite of the situation at hand. It seemed to him like she'd done these sorts of things a million times over. Of course, they had no way of knowing if that was true or not.

They set the trip wires up on both doors, shoved furniture in front of windows all along the first floor. His leg was giving him a serious amount of pain, but he pushed past it, limping along without a fuss. No point in complaining about something he couldn't control. All he could do was get his hands dirty. The idea was, that when the someone -or maybe multiple someones, heaven forbid- came for them, they'd find only two ways in. The front and back doors. Both rigged to blow. Should they get past that, they'd find a clear path to the stairs that led to the upper floor. Lena had littered it with broken glass from picture frames and light bulbs. Smart. He wouldn't have thought of that. They'd be able to hear someone crunching up the stairs from any point in the house.

There was a high awning that connected a sort of overhanging open garage to the side of the house. The metal material would be loud, but they could get out on it easily enough from the hall window upstairs. Once they were sure whoever it was was either down for the count or headed upstairs, they'd go outside, hop down, and go to either door, one hiding behind the tractor out back and one at the tall bushes near the fence out front. And they'd wait. If the guy came out, he'd be as good as dead. They weren't going to play games or take prisoners. It was shoot to kill, at this point.

Once everything was set, they settled themselves in two chairs he'd found and set up at the back of the hall near the window, sure not to open the curtain. The rain had lessened considerably, but the sky was still a dusty gray. They ate some power bars they found in the back of a cabinet, sharing a half empty bottle of water. Afterward, his bad leg was stretched out straight, the crossbow in his lap, aimed toward the stairs. She was holding her handgun, sitting leaning forward with her elbows on her knees. She'd found a brush somewhere and put her hair up in a tight ponytail. He could see the scar above her ear. It was shaped a bit like a V, about the width of a baseball. Her hair typically covered it so no one ever really saw it unless her hair was pulled back.

"Does it bother you?" He asked her then, motioning idly at her head. She glanced at him, raising both brows and sitting up a little straighter. Then she raised her hand and touched the white skin of her scar.

"This?" She asked softly, letting her hand fall. "Not really. I guess I don't really think about it much. And it doesn't hurt anymore. I get funny looks sometimes." She shrugged, relaxing back into the chair and stretching both legs, crossing them at the ankles. "But it is what it is." She took in a breath and let it out slowly. "There are worse things than a few scars." She looked at her forearms, turning one, the tiny cut and burn scars moving as she clenched a fist. "I kind of see them as proof that I've made it. Ya know?" She dropped her hand to her lap and smirked a little. "Though, no idea what I've made it through."

Daryl smiled lightly at her. "Sometimes I think it'd be better to forget. I'd like to forget some of the scars I have." He said, looking back down the stairs. She knew about the scars on his back, though she'd never actually seen them. He'd told her about them when they talked about his father, bastard that he was. Her exact words at the time had been, _'Doesn't change how I see you.'_ He'd never asked her to elaborate. He kind of wished he had.

"I wouldn't change anything about you." She said then, and he looked at her. The expression on her face stilled him. There was something in her voice, and in her eyes that just melted him. His lips parted slightly in awe. The way she was looking at him... damn. He'd never had a woman look at him like that before. He couldn't even describe it properly. She reached forward then, one hand cupping the side of his face, her thumb smoothing across his skin. His heart began hammering again, he could swear it was loud enough for her to hear. And for a breath or two, they just locked eyes and stayed like that. It seemed like she was going to say something more when the sound of an engine met their ears.

Her hand immediately dropped and she turned in her seat, pulling aside the curtain just enough to peak out. "Can't see anything. One sec." She said, standing up and moving into one of the rooms off the hallway. All he could do was sit there, tight strung and wary. When she came back, she moved to his side immediately, sitting next to him. "It's a pickup. One man behind the wheel. I couldn't see his face. He's parked out front." She stared down at the stairs and they both became incredibly silent. They could have been statues or ghosts. Shit was about to hit the fan, literally and figuratively. And he couldn't help but be a little afraid. Not for himself. But for Lena. If things went sideways, and she got hurt, he'd never forgive himself.

Without a word, he reached over and grabbed her free hand, and held it in his. And they sat like that in silence, waiting for something -anything- to happen, and hoping for an explosion to send this asshat sky high.


	16. "I'm going to skin you alive!"

Dylan sat in the truck for about ten minutes, eventually tapping his fingers along with some country song about highways. Who'd ever owned the vehicle before had a hell of a country music CD collection. He was studying the front of the house. The downstairs windows had been boarded up long ago, though a few had fallen or been torn off. The paint on the siding was peeling from weather wear, the porch had a broken bench off to the side. On the stairs was a puddle of blood. Nothing big. But enough to tell him that Daryl was hurt bad. Goody, goody.

He reached forward, shutting off the ignition, yanking out the screw driver he'd used to start the truck. He grabbed his bag, slipping the tool back in before cinching the bag and putting it on over his head, the strap across his chest. He grabbed his gun, and opened the door, slipping out of the cab. The dead grass crunched beneath his feet as he moved toward the porch. He stopped at the puddle of blood, touching it with his fingers with a smile. Then he stuck his fingers in his mouth and stood up, shifting his gun from one hand to the other afterward.

He didn't go up the stairs. Instead, he took a few steps backward. All the curtains were closed. None of them moved. For all intents and purposes, the house was quiet and seemingly empty. But he knew they were still there. He'd been watching, every moment. He began to roam the property, walking around the entirety of the outside of the house. It didn't appear they'd done anything to secure themselves. And it wasn't like Daryl would be much use with his leg having a hole in it. Not to mention all their provisions were now in his possession. He'd taken them all out of their truck before he crashed it into the gas pumps back at the depot. Their extra ammo, their food and water. It was all his now. By the looks of the place they'd taken shelter in, they had very little to work with. Good.

He finally made his way back to the front of the house, standing before the porch. He narrowed his eyes on the door and cleared his throat. "Leeeeeeena." He called out her name, dragging it out. He didn't expect any response just yet. He took one step up. "I know you can hear me." He continued. "How's the redneck doing?" He took another step. "Leg hurting like a bitch, I imagine." Another step, then another till he was on the wrap around porch. "Come out and play! I promise I'll only drag Daryl's death out a little bit." And he reached for the door handle.

* * *

Lena froze at the sound of her name. The voice they both heard was only slightly muffled by the door and the walls between them. She knew that voice, but from where? It sent shivers up and down her spine the more he spoke. And she could feel a small panic building in her gut. When he talked about Daryl, that panic began to sizzle into anger. Daryl's hand squeezed hers, and they exchanged glances. She couldn't read his expression. But he nodded at her.

They waited. And then...

* * *

One second he was pushing the door in, the next he was flying back onto the porch, tumbling down the stairs, his ears ringing like there were thousands of little sirens going off in his head. The wind had been completely knocked out of him. And he coughed, wheezing, desperately trying to get his wits back about him quickly. When he sat up a bit, pain flooded his body. He was littered with splinters, some big and some small. A piece of wood was literally sticking out of his forearm, and his side was no better off. "FUUUUUUUUCK!" He roared out, grinding his teeth as he pushed himself staggeringly to his feet. "You bitch!" He yelled at her, stumbling a little to the side.

He never saw it coming. Where the fuck had she gotten explosives?! He yanked the wood out of his arm, spit and blood drooling from his mouth. Then he yanked the one out of his side, which had thankfully not gone too deep. "I'm going to skin you alive!" He yelled out again. Rage pushed him, filled him with adrenaline and strength, and he grabbed his gun, leaving his bag wherever it had flown off to. And he went into the house, bleeding as he went, this time very careful to look for surprises.

* * *

They both tensed at the blast, Daryl squeezing her hand a bit more, then they stood in unison, peering down the hall, breathing heavily but trying desperately to stay quiet. Beads of sweat trailed down her back, her head. She had to swallow, her body buzzing with building adrenaline. Daryl was pretty much in the same boat beside her, his crossbow raised at the stairs. The more that asshole yelled, the tighter his grip got on the hilt. He was ready to let an arrow loose at any second. "I'm going to skin you alive!" They both heard the man yell, and the sound of his boots hitting the floorboards in the living room. Daryl couldn't help but sneer. _Bring it on, asshole._ He thought. He would be damned if he let him touch Lena.

* * *

"That wasn't nice, Lena. I was going to be so kind to you, just torture your boyfriend a little bit. But now..." He chuckled, teeth bared as he swung his gun around, checking every inch of every step he took. "Now I'm going to make it last all night, while you watch." He stepped into the kitchen, over a pile of bloody towels and some gauze wrappers. "Won't be any patching him up when I'm done." He heard a creak over his head, looking up. His smile grew larger. And he turned back around, moving for the staircase.

* * *

Daryl couldn't help it, he had to shift his stance a little, his leg throbbing so badly that it felt like it weighed a million pounds. The floor board creaked ever so slightly. He was also sweating a lot more than he should. He wondered if he was running a fever. But it didn't matter. Wasn't anything they could do about it at the moment. Then they both stiffened with the first sound of crunching glass. Someone was at the stairs.

* * *

Dylan stopped the moment he heard the glass crunching, and he peered up the length of the stairs. "Smart girl." He said, lowering his gun a little and lifting his foot, setting it back down at the foot of the stairs. "Waiting for me, are you?" He stepped backward again. And he thought of something. He staggered backwards, then turned for the front door. His side was bleeding a stream of blood down his leg. He left a trail of it as he went, but he ignored it. He headed back outside and went for the truck, grabbing his bag as he went. "I'm coming, sweetheart." He muttered, growling a little as he settled back into the drivers seat. A moment later, the engine roared to life. A moment after that, his foot slammed against the gas pedal, and the truck lurched forward, heading straight for the front door and the staircase just beyond...


	17. "I'm not leaving you, and that's final."

The crashing of the truck up and into the house, and straight into the stairs, shook the whole building. With the age and wear of the house, the stairs gave way, and half the hallway went with it. Both Lena and Daryl nearly fell over. "Shit, go!" He yelled at her, both of them spinning around. He tore the curtain off the window, and she climbed out onto the metal roof. He painfully followed her, both of them dropping down to the ground as another explosion roared to their right, the other grenade going off, probably triggered by debris.

Daryl didn't get up right away. The pain had traveled from his thigh, up his hip and into his back. He couldn't help the little sob that escaped his lips. Lena gripped his forearm, helping him stand, concern all over her features. Neither one of them could have predicted what this guy had done. And they were both a little shocked. They could stay and fight like they'd planned, but this guy was a whole level of crazy neither one of them had counted on. He just wouldn't die. They heard him moving around the building inside, debris being pushed aside. "I'm going to rip you both apart!" They heard him yell out, then gunfire rang in the air.

Daryl stood up straight, looking past her. "Run!" He said firmly, pointing to a line of trees about two hundred yards away. They both moved instantly. His was more of a lumbering, shambling sprint followed by dragging his leg for a bit, back to sprinting. When they finally reached the tree line, he fell into the woods, hidden by low branches and some short bushes. She got down on her knees beside him. He felt dizzy, even a little cold despite the fever that was burning in him. He could feel unconsciousness buzzing around the edges of his awareness. "Daryl!" He heard Lena, felt her hands on his back. "He stopped shooting! Daryl, please, we have to go!" She urged him, hands gripping the back of his angel-wing vest. He pushed himself up shakily, and she helped him.

Once on their feet, his arm was draped around her shoulders. And they moved through the woods, heading anywhere but there.

* * *

Dylan stopped firing, nearly tumbling out the destroyed back door, seeing Daryl and Lena halfway to the treeline. And he lowered his gun. He felt lightheaded, and his body was a roaring, angry and pained thing that was beginning to fail him. He watched them disappear into the woods, and slowly he sat down. He wasn't going to win this. Not as wounded as he was. He slowly laid down on the ground, concentrating on breathing and staring up at the gray sky. "Alright. We'll finish this later." He muttered. He could live with it being a draw, for now. This wasn't over, after all. Not by a long shot.

* * *

She wasn't sure how long they walked through the woods. But it began to grow dark and cooler, and finally Daryl just collapsed out of her hold, crumbling to the ground heavily. He didn't even wince, barely registered that he'd fallen. He was pale and sweating profusely. Lena fell to her knees beside him. "Daryl." She said his name, causing his tired blue eyes to look at her. He didn't say anything. His eyes were heavy lidded, blinking slowly. She put a hand to his forehead. Then touched his face, the exposed part of his chest. His whole body was on fire. He was running a terrible fever, which was a sure sign of infection. She let out a small sob, tears escaping her eyes that she hadn't even known were there. There was no way she could carry him. She might be able to drag him for a bit, but that would only last so long.

"Leave me." He said, his voice strained and sort of drawling. "Go on. Get outta here, Lena." She let out an exasperated breath, she couldn't believe he was actually saying that to her. "I can't... I'm just draggin ya back. Go on while you gotta chance." She stared at him, tears hot on her cheeks, and then she shook her head, leaning into him and taking his face in both of her hands.

"No way, not ever. You're stuck with me, Daryl Dixon. You hear me?" She said angrily, searching his eyes. He lifted a hand up, his fingers shakily pushing stray strands of her hair behind one ear.

"Don't be so stubborn. You can survive this. Jus go." His hand fell. And she clenched her jaw, watching him blink tiredly at her.

And she kissed him.

A soft press of her lips to his pale ones, all warmth and the need for him to feel what she felt. There was nothing heavy about it. It was tentative, and he returned it easily. When she pulled away, he was watching her with soft confusion and an adoring expression she hadn't seen from anyone before. "I'm not leaving you. And that's final." She said, then laid down on the ground next to him, curling into his frame, her gun out in one hand. "Just rest. You need to sleep. Get your energy back." He didn't protest. He just got quieter and quieter, till his labored breath came out in soft bursts, his eyes closed. He looked... awful.

Their pursuer was nowhere to be seen. He'd probably succumbed to his injuries, just like Daryl was doing now. So maybe that danger had passed. But now here was Daryl, a heartbeat or two away from Death's door. And she felt useless. She couldn't help him. And she hated herself for it.

"Don't die on me, Daryl." She nudged her face against his, "I need you." The tears kept coming from her eyes as the sky opened up and rain began to pour down again. For the first time since she could remember, she had something -someone- to lose. And it was killing her to know there was nothing she could do to stop it. She began to cry, sobs escaping her mouth as she clung to him. And he didn't even stir. Not even a small bit, well and truly unconscious. "Don't die." She choked out one more time. Thunder rolled over head and the rain began to downpour, drowning out her tears.


	18. 'Open your eyes and see.'

'The devil's gone for now, Lena.' _She heard the child say. The deep quiet dark was cold now. It made every inch of her ache, a stiffness settling into bones that hurt deeper than anything she'd ever known._ 'You're almost home.' 

'You always say that. I don't understand.' _Lena whispered, feeling herself floating around like she were being moved by a non-existent breeze. The girl giggled._

'Don't you feel it?' _She asked, and Lena suddenly felt a small hand grab her arm like a vice._ 'Open your eyes and see.'

Lena startled awake. And the first thing she saw was Daryl's pale face next to hers. She hadn't even realized she'd fallen asleep. It was morning. And they were both soaked to the bone. The rain had stopped hours ago, though. And the sun was rising steadily. The only sounds were the steady drops of the leaves dripping leftover raindrops. She couldn't believe they were still there, that no walkers had come upon them, or that their enemy hadn't come for them. It was a strange stroke of luck.

And it also pissed her off.

She never should have slept. That was so stupid. They could be dead now due to her carelessness. Her eyes grew wider then, and she pushed herself up, flattening her palm on Daryl's chest. He was still breathing, steadily, but lightly. He was still very much unconscious. She had to get him somewhere safe. She needed to find help. Daryl needed antibiotics and fever reducers. And as she stood up, peering around, she realized the solution was literally all around her. She'd been so caught up in her fear and panic that she hadn't even allowed herself the clarity to think of it.

She worked hastily, gathering sturdy branches and sticks. She used the laces from both their sets of boots and sturdy twine she'd gathered to lash it all together. She used both of their belts to build a handle to pull it with. And after about an hour, she had a working litter. After checking on Daryl again, she carefully dragged him onto it, settling him in place as best she could. She tucked both their guns into her pants, and strapped his crossbow to her back. She had to lay her knife next to Daryl without her belt to loop it into. And with one last check on Daryl, she grabbed up the belts and began to pull.

It was slow going. But it worked. She dragged him along the woods for hours, her steps growing more and more weary as she went. One problem with the country side was there was a whole lot of nothing or a whole lot of woods. Just when she thought it was all going to go on forever, the woods gave out to a steep decline, ending at an empty road. She dropped the belts, falling to her knees in exhaustion, breathing heavily as she peered down. There was no way she could drag him down this way. He'd fall right out of the litter and probably get hurt worse than he already was. She needed to find a better way down. But for a moment, she just rested. The sun was blaring down now. The air was humid and heavy after all the rain. She pressed her back to a tree, letting her eyes land on Daryl.

For all intents and purposes, he could have just been sleeping. But she knew better. She knew he was fighting for his life. And she had to do everything she could to make sure that this was a battle he would win. About then, she heard the distant engine of a vehicle. It startled her and she hunkered down next to Daryl, peering out from the low brush, mostly hidden.

It was either the craziest, lucky damn day she'd ever experienced, or just a hell of a coincidence. Because the car that came rolling down the road began to slow, and then creep to the edge of the road, stopping. The sound of a horn blaring began to echo everywhere. It was way too damn loud. Walkers would come straight for it. Shit, shit, shit. She glanced at Daryl, then looked down at the now still standing car. "Wonderful." She muttered. Then she began to cover Daryl up with some leaves and sticks. As much as she could get her hands on, and as fast as she could. If a walker wandered this way, she didn't want them finding him.

She set the crossbow against a tree, as well as both guns. But she did grab her knife. And then she began to make her way down the incline toward the car. About half way down, she lost her footing. The earth was still wet from all the rain, and it gave in easily. Before she knew it, she was falling, rolling faster and faster till she hit the hard road at the bottom. She was so stunned that she just laid there a moment on her back, blinking, breathing hard. Then it registered that the car horn was still blaring. She forced herself up. Her body felt a bit weird, even a little numb in spots. But she ignored it, staggering her way to the car.

Inside a single woman was slumped over in the driver's seat. Besides some trash in the front and blankets and pillows in the back, the rest of the car looked empty. Lena hastily opened the door. The smell was god awful, the woman inside apparently having puked all over herself. Lena gagged a little, but reached forward and felt for a pulse. There was nothing. The woman looked as though she'd been sick for awhile. Her skin was ashen gray, and she was severely thin. Lena muttered a 'sorry', and simply yanked the woman out and off the steering wheel. The horn blaring stopped immediately.

Lena rested both hands on the top of the hood, gripping the rubber of the door seal slightly. And then she felt it. The numbness wore off and she could feel steady pain in her back. And wetness, thick and hot. She reached behind her with one hand, trying to feel. That didn't do much good. The pain ranged from between her shoulder blades down to her lower back. She must have scraped herself really good on the way down the hill. Shit.

She had to ignore it. She had a working vehicle now, and had to get Daryl back to Alexandria. She stepped over the woman, grabbing her head with one hand and stabbing her eye socket with the other. No point in the woman suffering as a walker, too.

It took her nearly twenty minutes to get back up that damn hill. Not only was it steadily working against her, she was increasingly in more and more pain with her back. It took another half hour, once she'd found a suitable way to drag Daryl and the litter down, to get back to the car.

She'd had to kill three walkers during it all. And by the time she managed to drag Daryl into the back seat, she was so exhausted that every muscle was shaking and twitching. She even had to throw up a bit, retching mostly nothing onto the side of the road. When she finally got into the driver's seat, she just closed the door and sat there in the somewhat smelly silence. She was filthy, covered in mud and dirt and her own blood. Her back was on fire. And she had a headache that wasn't quitting. She started the car back up with a wince, rolling down the windows to let the fresh air in.

She gave one last glance out the window toward the hill, flipped the woods her middle finger, and drove.

* * *

Daryl's fever broke on its own by the time the next afternoon rolled around, which was probably the greatest stroke of luck yet. That didn't mean he was out of the woods, though. She'd driven non-stop till she was nearly out of gas, stopping at a burnt out gas station and scrounging for supplies. She cleaned herself up and Daryl, too, with some collected rain water she found in a bucket. There wasn't anything she could do about her back, which sucked. A lot. But she forced herself past it.

She had to switch him to an SUV that had about a quarter of a tank of gas left in it. And that was so much harder than it should have been. She was so very tired. She needed to sleep. But she was afraid if she did, their luck would run out and something bad would happen to Daryl.

He stirred only a little every now and then, making small noises, or his hands would twitch. All she could do was drive, and pray he would hang in there. It wasn't till night was upon them again that she had no choice but to stop. They were out of gas, and she was out of energy.

Against her will and better judgment, she could feel her own unconsciousness tugging at her. She turned in the front seat, reaching back and grabbing Daryl's hand momentarily. But slowly, her fingers slipped away. She slumped over. And the night simply swallowed her whole. Whatever happened next, she'd have no control over it. And her last thoughts were simply, _'We've got this.'_ A futile last bit of stubbornness before exhaustion claimed its prize.


	19. "How'd we get here?"

When Daryl woke up, he found himself staring at a ceiling.

He felt weak, shaky, like he hadn't eaten in weeks. Like something had drained the life out of him, leaving only a spare amount behind. And his leg was throbbing. He could smell soap, and tasted something bitter in his mouth. For a moment, he just frowned in confusion, blinking lazily.

Then, like a shot from a gun, it all slammed back in to him. The depot and the man trying to kill them. And running through the woods with Lena before he collapsed. And she kissed him. His eyes went wide and he sat straight up, the room spinning when he did. He felt hands on him, and he brought a fist up, stopping just before letting a punch fly when he saw Carol's face.

"Daryl!" She exclaimed, grabbing his hands. His face twisted in momentary pain and confusion, his heart ached in his chest. He had no idea how it was possible, but he was in Alexandria. He was home.

"Lena." He demanded then, his voice coming out choked and slightly emotional. "Where's Lena? Is she here? Tell me she's here." He said, and Carol sat down on the bed with him. His body wanted nothing more than to lay back down, but he forced himself to stay sitting, searching his friend's face for answers.

"She's here. She's resting in the room down the hall. She got hurt pretty bad. But she's gonna be okay. You're both gonna be okay." Carol said, putting a hand to his shoulder. He let out a relieved sob before allowing himself to fall back on to the bed. He couldn't have said why, but he cried. Tears streamed from his eyes and he covered his face with his shaky hands. And Carol, in her wonderful way, just held on to him, one hand on his shoulder, the other in his hair. She never judged him. There were very few people he'd ever gotten emotional in front of. Even so, he doubted he could've stopped this if he'd tried. When the tears finally subsided, Carol was back in the chair, smoothing his hair out of his face.

"How'd we get here?" He finally asked her. He sounded exhausted, even to himself. Carol let out a slow breath, watching him.

"When you didn't come back, Rick and Glenn went back out. They drove around Gray Lake looking for you. Found the depot and the fire. Then hit all the roads they could find. They found you both in an SUV off of the highway, about a day away from home." She let her eyes fall for a moment, and shook her head. "You were both..." She cleared her throat, as if it hurt to say the words. "We weren't sure either of you would make it. That was yesterday."

She relaxed back into the chair, folding her hands in her lap. "You've got an infection in your leg, but Denise cleaned the wound really well and sewed you back up again. Pumped you full of antibiotics while you were out. Lena had to have something like thirty stitches on her back. She was suffering from severe exhaustion. Weren't sure if she'd ever wake up, poor thing. She came-to about three hours ago, but fell back to sleep not soon after that."

Daryl could only listen, taking it all in. When had Lena been hurt? He didn't remember seeing anything like that happen to her. And thirty stitches? Damn, that was a lot. "She told us everything that happened out there." Carol said, meeting his tired gaze again. "She saved your life, Daryl. Nearly lost her own doing it. And... we think we know who that man was."

"It's Dylan Rogers." Daryl heard Rick say, peering past Carol to see his best friend walk in to the room. "He went missing around the time we all left. We think he stowed away in your truck. No one's seen or heard anything from him. I radioed Abraham and he stopped by the farmhouse Lena told us about. Said the place was a wreck. But there was no truck and Rogers was long gone."

"Sonofabitch." Daryl muttered. "I can't believe that bastard's alive. I'm gonna rip his throat out." He growled out. Rick just smiled a little, leaning forward and grabbing Daryl's hand, giving it a light squeeze.

"Plenty of time for that later, but for now just rest, man. You've been through enough, need to get your strength back." He let go, standing up straight and patting Carol's shoulder. "We'll be back to check on you later. I mean it. Just rest." He said, and Carol smiled, standing. She bent over and kissed Daryl's forehead. And a moment later, he was left alone in the room, staring at the ceiling again.

They were home. They were safe. Rogers was alive. But they were here and he wasn't. And Lena... god, Lena. She'd saved him. She'd found a way to get him close enough to home so that they could be found. She was one damn determined woman. At that moment, he wanted nothing more than to see her face, to hold her to him, to feel her in his arms. But he knew there was no chance he would get much farther than the floor. He was weak, head to toe. Rest was a really good idea. And though Lena wasn't at his side just yet, he could fall asleep knowing she was safe and sound, only a bedroom away.


	20. "Bout time."

Weeks passed.

It was surreal, waking up in Alexandria. Alive. The last thing she'd remembered was falling asleep in the SUV. So finding herself surrounded by Rick, Carol, Denise and a few others was more than a little jarring. She barely cooperated with them till they told her that Daryl was alive and going to be okay. Then she told them everything that happened. Retelling it was harder than it seemed. It came in bits and pieces because she was so tired, but she managed.

That was far behind them, now. Dylan was still out there. Anyone who had injuries like he'd probably sustained should have died by now. But there was a nagging in the back of her mind that told her they hadn't heard the last of him. It was almost funny, thinking of it that way. Like he was some cartoon villain. Then she just tried to figure out how she knew what a cartoon villain was.

It took longer for Daryl to get his strength back than it did her, but he pushed himself. Which was half the problem. He didn't know when to slow down or take it easy. He was determined to get back into the thick of it as soon as possible, but Denise was sticking to her guns and refusing to let him out on any runs or do anything heavy till his limp went away. Or mostly away.

At the moment, Denise was plucking the stitches from Lena's back. One at a time. It felt strange, the odd tugging from the freshly growing scar that ran from between her shoulders down across her spine and across to her lower back, ending just near where her knife wound had been. Denise figured she'd dragged her back across a protruding stick when she'd fallen down the hill. It had all happened so fast, Lena couldn't say one way or another.

"It's healing up really well." Denise said then, and dropped the little scissors and pair of tweezers she'd been using. She grabbed an alcohol swab and began to drag it down the length of the scar. Lena was holding her shirt against her breasts, her bra off to the side, sitting with her back toward Denise. "Should be good as new in no time." She heard Denise pull off the sterile gloves she'd been wearing. "Just keep it as dry as you can for another week or so and you should be fine. I'll check it again in a few days."

Lena stood up from the bed, grabbing her bra and slipping it on, cinching it in place before pulling her somewhat large 'Army Strong' t-shirt over her head. She turned to look at Denise, smiling a little, as the other woman cleaned her tools up. "How's your other patient?" She asked, and Denise shrugged lightly.

"Far grumpier than you." She said, glancing sideways at Lena. "I swear he's just making it difficult on purpose. You know how he is." Lena nodded at that, slipping her hands into her pockets. To be honest, she didn't really know what kind of patient Daryl could be. Since they'd both gotten out of their sick-beds, he'd barely said two words to her. It was like he was avoiding her, which was hard considering they shared the same house and he was pretty much on a healing vacation. Denise seemed to pick up on Lena's thoughts, pausing what she was doing and turning to look at her fully.

"He's ignoring you, isn't he." She said softly. Lena had to raise her brows in slight surprise.

"How'd you know?" She asked, taking a step closer. Denise smiled.

"Because that's Daryl. I haven't known him a terribly long time. But he can get very distant and quiet from just about everyone when he's trying to figure something out. You two went through a lot. Maybe he's just trying to put the pieces together for himself. Have you asked him?" Denise asked. Lena shrugged slightly.

"Not really. I haven't been sure what to say. I can tell he's angry about everything. So am I. But I feel like... there's more to it than that." Lena crossed her arms over her chest in thought, clenching her jaw idly as she looked down at the floor. Denise reached up and gently grabbed Lena's arm, forcing eye contact.

"Ask him." Denise smiled, letting her hand drop. "I'm no expert. Far from it. But... maybe it's better to poke the bear till he gets out of his own way, right?" Lena smiled a little at that and nodded.

"I might just do that." She said, a soft chuckle following. She thanked Denise and left, heading out into the warm afternoon. Walking back to the house, she was second guessing herself the entire way. What if after everything that had happened, all Daryl had seen her do, he wanted nothing to do with her anymore? What if he decided she wasn't worth the trouble? Or what if... what if the kiss she'd given him, as innocent as it had been, was a bad idea? Shit, shit, shit.

She found Daryl sitting on the porch, in the shade, cleaning his crossbow. Poor man was bored out of his mind. His healing leg was stretched out. His hair was wet, a signal that he'd showered. Carol had practically threatened to give him sponge baths herself if he didn't keep the wound clean. So he'd begrudgingly agreed to shower every other day to avoid her mothering wrath. His vest, which looked like it had been scrubbed, too, was hanging over the railing, drying. He was wearing a sleeveless t-shirt with some obscure band name on it, a pair of black jeans with holes at the knees, and his usual boots, which had also been scrubbed. Daryl had been on a roll.

"Shiny." She said, smiling at him, leaning her hip against the rail, her hands in her pockets. He glanced up at her and shrugged, tossing the cloth he'd been using aside and turning the crossbow in his hands to reattach the strap.

"Needed to do it. Been awhile." He muttered. There was a perpetual roughness to his tone these days. If she got him to say anything at all, that was. She swallowed a little, looking down at the floorboards.

"Daryl..." she began, pausing. _Dammit, Lena, don't be a pussy,_ she chastised herself. She cleared her throat and took a quick step toward him, stopping just before his outstretched leg. "Are you mad at me?" There, she got it out. Okay, she got something out, anyway. Daryl had the grace to blink and look up at her with an almost blank expression, then his brows furrowed.

"Why the hell would I be mad at you?" He growled out, setting his crossbow down between his legs, clicking the other end of the strap in place without taking his eyes off her. "You didn't do nothin." She frowned at him, and then crossed her arms over her chest.

"Because you barely say two words to me, you go out of your way to avoid me, and when you do talk to me, you sound like you're trying to keep yourself from ripping my head off." She said flatly, spewing it all out there. If he wanted to be a grump-ass, so could she. Daryl just sat there, staring at her. Then he pulled the crossbow up and set it against the rail, standing up and towering slightly over her, meeting her gaze easily and barely a breath away from her.

"I'm not mad at you. I'm mad at... everythin else." He said, this time his tone a touch softer. He stepped away from her so quick then that she was left momentarily reeling the loss of his close presence. She turned to see him grab his vest off the railing, shaking it out a little before turning it over and setting it back down. "I'm mad that you got hurt. I'm mad that asshat might still be alive. I'm mad that I'm..." He began to raise his voice, then motioned to his leg, "A fuckin useless gimp right now." He nearly yelled at no one. Then he leaned forward, gripping the railing with both hands, staring out at the street. "Jus mad."

Lena didn't move at first, just watched him, let him have his moment. Then she moved up to his side and reached out, grabbing his face in her hands and forcing him to look at her. "Then stop letting it out on me. Don't shut me out. We've been through too much for you to do that to me." He just blinked at her, then straightened, reaching up and grabbing both her hands in his. She didn't fight him, she let him pull her hands away. But he didn't let her go. Instead, his face softened, like something was dawning on him slowly. Then he nodded, one little motion.

"Sorry." He said. One word. But just looking in his eyes, she could tell he meant it. Daryl wasn't a liar. If anything, every word he ever said was meaningful and true, and he expected the very same from everyone else. It was just another thing she'd grown to love about him. A feeling she had yet to profess, and wasn't sure she'd ever be able to. He deserved better than a broken-minded woman, after all. For a moment, she thought he was going to let her go. But to her surprise, he pulled her toward him, and hugged her. His strong, warm arms enfolded her. And she just felt herself mold into him, hanging on to him, her head beneath his chin. "Really. You didn't deserve that." He muttered. "An I'm sorry you were hurt. Sorry you had to save my smarmy ass."

Lena laughed a little. "You're forgiven." She lifted her head to look at him, neither one of them breaking their hold. "And, for the record, I like your smarmy ass. Kinda want to keep you around." He smirked at her, his blue eyes softer than they had been in weeks.

"Dunno why." He said, lifting a hand to slip her hair behind her ear. God, she loved when he did that. "I'm an asshole." He added. She tilted her head a little, smirking up at him.

"Cause I'm crazy, remember?" She said softly, still smiling lightly. But her smile faded when she saw his face sober. The look he gave her... hot damn. It melted her. It took every ounce of will to stay standing, her heart began flying around in her chest.

"Yer perfect." He said so softly, it barely met her ears. "Lena..." He slid his hand down her upper arm, curling it behind her lower back. "Why'd you kiss me? Back in the woods." She swallowed. _Oh, boy._ This was whole new territory for her. Did she just come out and say, _'Yeah, I'm totally in love with you, so had to smooch you once before you died.'_ Sure, cause that would go over well. She was quiet for a long moment, then let out a slow breath.

"Because I'm... I've..." she stuttered a little, feeling her face flush red, her breath come a little quicker, nervousness filling every inch of her being. "I've fallen in love with you." She managed to get out, but only in a whisper. And she waited for the inevitable pain of him pulling away and saying he didn't feel the same, because who in their right mind would fall for someone as broken as she was? But that pain didn't come, because a look of complete surprise painted Daryl's features, and she could feel his heart pick up speed in his chest.

He seemed to be struggling with what to say, there was so much going through his eyes, like he was fighting with himself. She could feel tears beginning to form in her eyes, stinging, one escaping against her will, rolling down her cheek as her breath caught. This was it. He was going to pull away and, _Stupid Lena, why the hell would you ever think-_ but her thought was cut off when his hand came up and his thumb smoothed the tear away. And he said words to her she didn't think she'd ever hear, and sure as hell didn't think she deserved.

"I love you, too." He said. His voice was shaken, like he was scared and full of more things he just couldn't say. She felt a soft sob escape her lips, just before he kissed her. And all that worry and all that doubt that was in her head just went poof.

That kiss was... everything.

It started out soft, tentative, even a little nervous. His hand cupped her cheek, fingers smoothing into her hair, his other hand holding her against him. And her arms snaked around his neck, their lips pressed against each other's softly, firmly, wanting. They pulled away just long enough to look in each other's eyes for affirmation. And then the kiss grew, stronger, warmer, needier. A dance of mouths and tongues, searching and tasting, needing to feel all there was they had yet to allow.

Lena was putty in his hands, completely at his mercy and happy for it. She'd have given him anything in that moment. And not just because of the kiss, which was probably the most remarkable and amazing thing she could remember experiencing, but because he'd said it. He loved her, too. As impossible as it seemed to her, it was real. He was here, and he was holding her and he wanted her.

"Bout time." They both heard Carol say, startled and pulling apart to look down at the sidewalk where Carol and Maggie were both standing, grinning like idiots. They started laughing, and Lena had to bury her face into Daryl's shoulder, chuckling. It was too funny not to. Daryl just wrapped his arms firmly around her, shifting a little on his feet.

"Voyeurs." He said to the two women, which only made them laugh more, and made Lena laugh along with them. It was all too wonderful. Too much. Too perfect. For the first time since she'd come-to in the end of the world, Lena felt well and truly... home.

But home wasn't as safe as they all wanted it to be. There were dangers waiting just outside their walls. Some human, some walkers, all monsters. The days to come were about to test everything they were as a whole. They were all about to learn how unsafe the Alexandria Safe Zone really was...


	21. "You're incorrigible."

It was nearly one in the morning by the time they headed upstairs. He wasn't sure he ever talked so much with anyone in his life. And all the things they talked about were so real and personal, he felt like he'd plucked the depths of himself out and handed it all to her. And she received it all without judgement, not a single moment of disgust or anger at his past. The only thing that upset her was how he thought of himself. Which, to be honest, was how he'd always thought. He wasn't much of anything. No more important than anyone else. And sure as hell not worthy of a woman like her.

"Don't ever think that." _Lena had said, her legs draped over his lap, her arms around him where they sat on the couch. She looked so stern and firm about her words._ "I thought the same, about myself, you know. That you deserved better than me because I'm so... broken." _She pressed her forehead to the side of his head._ "You're so much more than you ever give yourself credit for. Your heart, your strength, your courage..." _she sighed a little._ "I don't think you realize how much you saved me. You didn't just find me on the side of the road." _She held him a little tighter._ "You brought me home."

She didn't really give him much of a choice but to believe her. Because there she was, this incredibly intelligent, strong willed fighter of a woman, and she'd chosen him. He was watching her now, standing in the doorway of her room, as she pulled back her covers and sat on the bed, pulling her boots off and tossing them aside. "You don't have to stand there, ya know." She said without looking at him, reaching down and pulling her socks off.

He cleared his throat a little. "Wasn't sure you wanted me to... come in." He said, pushing away from the doorway a little and taking a tentative step forward. She looked over at him, turning her body.

"You really think I wanna be apart from you after spending most of the day in your arms? Hell no, Dixon. Consider me an addict." The smile she gave him was more than enough to get him to walk the rest of the way to the bed. He kicked his boots off, too, flopping down onto the bed and grabbing her as he went, pulling her down with him and making her laugh. She landed somewhat on top of him, her hands flat against his chest, her face inches away from his, her hair cascading around him.

"Don't have to tell me twice." He smirked at her, and she shook her head at him.

"You're incorrigible." She said to him, turning her head to place a soft trail of kisses on his cheek momentarily before relaxing completely against him. He wrapped his arms fully around her, taking in a deep breath and letting it out slow. Her hair smelled like some sort of flowery shampoo. He kinda liked it.

"No idea what that means. Hope it's a good thing." He said, nuzzling his nose into her hair, breathing her in. She smiled, tracing her thumb against his neck.

"In this case, yes. It's a very good thing." And they stayed like that for at least ten minutes. Just holding each other and breathing. He could have easily fallen asleep like that, it was just so damn comfortable and right having her in his arms. But there was a tension building he couldn't quite place, something in the way her heart thudded harder and harder against him. And then she began to kiss his skin, her body shifting beside him, her lips trailing along his flesh, leaving him with no choice but to breathe harder, hands holding to her tentatively, unsure of what he should do. Her lips made a slow way back to his mouth. It was the fire in her eyes that told him everything he needed to know. To have a woman look at a man that way was one thing. It usually meant a good fuck. But to have Lena look at him that way? It meant so much more. There was depth to that fire, heat and need, mixed with all the emotion they'd been expressing all day long.

They'd kept themselves in check up to that point. It seemed like they had an unspoken agreement to just go slow. But there was a moment when control broke. When the attraction was just too much and nature kicked in, taking the reigns. For the two of them, that moment had just come. His mouth found hers hungrily. The kiss was so deep and full, it left little room for air. She moaned against him as his strong arms gripped her and he rolled her over, pinning her to the bed with his frame, his knee between her legs. He could feel her pushing herself into him, just as hungry as he was, just as needy. He could feel himself grow harder and harder, straining against the material of his pants like it could barely be contained. And she could feel it too, a whimper escaping her throat when he ground himself against her instinctively.

She was incredible and she wasn't even naked yet.

As tight and as pressured as his dick was, he wanted this to last. This was no parking lot hooker he was with, no one night stand with a drunk bar chick. This was Lena. His Lena. The idea of her being his made him growl low in his throat, breaking the kiss to start exploring her. There was a possessiveness to his movements. He tasted her throat, his hand slipping beneath her shirt. She arched her back a little in response, her hands beginning to do some exploring of her own. She peeled his shirt off, throwing it aside. He only hesitated a little when he realized she'd get a good look at his scars at some point. But the way she looked him over, a subtle lick of her lips at the sight of his bare upper body, it washed all that away instantly.

It was his turn, removing her shirt, inch by inch rolling it up as he let his fingers massage her flesh, watching her. She sat up, letting him drag the cloth up and over. And she didn't even wait for him to go for her bra. She did it herself, reaching behind her and unhooking it, letting the contraption fall away, revealing her round, soft breasts. He let out a raspy sound. Glorious was a word that seemed good at the moment. He pressed her back down on to the bed, one hand cupping one breast as he pressed his body to hers, kissing her again.

Every touch, everything he did to her, she reacted to. The idea that she was giving herself over to him so completely only served to urge him on. He wanted nothing more than to hear her whimper, to feel her writhe beneath him, flesh on flesh. He wanted himself inside her. But he forced himself to go slow. To take his time. To make this last. For them both, it was a first in so many ways. Her because she couldn't even remember having sex before. And him because he'd never had a real relationship before, never really been in love before. He supposed that part was a first for them both, too.

He felt her hands hook into his pants, tugging, and she broke the kiss. "Pants. Off." She ordered, her breath hot and her eyes determined. He pushed himself away from her. He had no problem taking his pants off. But first thing's first.

"You first." He told her, staring her down as he undid her belt, then her button and zipper. He tugged her jeans off bit by bit, slipping off the bed to pull them off her feet and let them fall to the floor. Then he reached forward and hooked his thumbs into her underwear. Lowering those was easier. But damn if he didn't take his time doing it, dragging his fingers along her skin as he went. The effect on her made him smirk, her body spreading with goosebumps. Once the meager piece of cloth had fallen to the floor, he just stood there looking at her. The perfection of her. She had scars, too. None that she'd ever be able to explain. But to him, it was all just a part of her. And she was fucking sexy as hell. And all his.

Without a word, she got up on the bed, kneeling near the edge. And she undid his pants, their eyes locked in a battle of wills as she slipped the material off. He didn't have underwear on, choosing to go commando most of the time because it was just easier. When his dick sprung free, she had to look. And she breathed hot breath against the tip of it, curling her hands around his ass as he stepped out of his pants.

That was all it took to nearly completely undo him. He growled and slowly crawled over her, she put her hands around his neck and gasped when their bodies met, her back falling against the bed. Their mouths locked, the kiss so passionate, their flesh on fire as he ground against her, needing to feel that friction.

It was all hands and legs at that point, but it was damn intoxicating for them both. So intoxicating that he almost forgot to stop himself, just before the tip of his dick met her slick, wetness. "Shit..." he broke their kiss, out of breath. "Wait, I gotta get somethin." And he heard her gasp a little as he pulled himself away, darting out of the room. _Condoms, gotta find condoms,_ he thought to himself, practically ransacking the bathroom till he found a strip of Magnums in the very back of the sink cabinet. He made his way back to her, and stopped just before the bed, looking at her again. She was propped up on her elbows, staring at him, an enticing smile on her face.

"Forget something?" She asked, her voice was breathy, almost raspy, and it sent all sorts of tingles up and down his spine. He ripped one of the condoms off the strip and came back to the bed, dropping the rest to the floor.

"Safety first, right?" He muttered against her mouth. She took the condom wrapper from him.

"Let me." She said. Opening it up, she then pushed him gently back onto the bed, using her lips and fingers to make a slick and slow trail toward his dick. He had to close his eyes, the back of one hand plastering against his forehead. He let out a few shallow breaths, and then nearly arched when he felt something he wasn't expecting.

Her mouth enveloped him, the slick wetness of her lips and tongue making slow circles around his dick. "Damn, girly!" He gasped out, one hand moving to her hair, the other gripping the bed sheets. "Shit!" He growled out. If she wasn't careful, she'd undo him completely and she'd never get a chance to get the condom on him. As if picking up on his growing need, she pulled her mouth away from him, smiling up at him with mischievous eyes. He had to smirk a little at her. Then she worked the condom onto his dick, inching it down, working him with her hands a couple times.

He just couldn't take it anymore.

He reached forward and grabbed her gently, pulling her to him, their mouths finding each other hungrily as he rolled her onto her back and pinned her beneath him again. He didn't need much urging to find her again. But this time, there was no hesitation or pulling away. He plunged himself into her slowly, as deep as he could manage. She was so fucking warm and tight, it was amazing. Lena cried out beneath him, breaking their kiss and arching her whole body, driving herself into him, making him go impossibly deeper. From there, they found a rhythm.

They worked together, sweat beading their flesh, her hands everywhere, his teeth nipping at her neck or their lips joined in the most passionate kisses he'd ever experienced. At one point, she whispered, 'Harder.' And he damn near fell in love with her all over again. He did exactly as she asked. The sounds she made got louder and louder, more intense, her legs gripping him till her whole body shuddered and she cried out, coming around him. The look on her face was priceless, the way she went momentarily limp. The fact that he could do that to her gave him all sorts of pride.

His turn wasn't far behind, as he kept up the rhythm. The pressure that built was almost painful, and he began to make sounds of his own, needy and urging, until finally with a few last thrusts, he exploded. He came inside her, pressing in as deep as he could, holding himself there until he was sure there was nothing left to give. And then, and only then, did he collapse on top of her out of breath and sweat slick.

And that was how they stayed for a long while, just breathing till their hearts slowed, one of her hands in his hair, the other trailing lines down his spine and over his scars like they were just another part of him to learn. The air cooled around them, the adrenaline wore off. Their legs were a tangle and he could feel himself slowly shrinking inside her. She didn't move him off, though. Instead, she reached for one of the blankets that had fallen half off the bed and draped it over them haphazardly. He lifted his head to look at her. And when she looked back at him, he knew it was all true. She loved him. She really did. It was right there on her face, in her eyes. And she kissed him sweetly as if to make sure he knew it.

It wasn't long till they fell asleep like that. And as Daryl closed his eyes, his woman in his arms, he felt more whole than he could ever remember feeling.


	22. "What fun would that be?"

Months passed. Winter came and went. The group went through its own rough times. There were still deaths. And Daryl and Aaron still looked for survivors. The threat of Dylan Rogers was still there. Lena and Daryl seemed to carry it with them, like they were waiting for a bomb to go off that they just couldn't see. But without any solid leads to follow, they had to push it aside and worry about the tasks at hand.

There were always runs to do, work to be done. Lena had settled in as best she could, though was still having her blackouts from time to time. There were just some things she couldn't control. But to their credit, the residents of Alexandria seemed to take it all in stride. Especially when they saw how handy her blackouts could be. She was a force to be reckoned with when there was danger in front of her. Abraham called her a walking sledgehammer. The term seemed pretty accurate sometimes.

She was remembering things, too. In bits and pieces, and sometimes in giant chucks that just took her feet right out from under her. She was beginning to slowly piece together who she may have been before the fall. It was pretty clear she'd been a soldier of some sort. And when the shit hit the fan, she'd been prepping to go back overseas. Instead of heading to her post, she went for her family instead. Her mother, brothers, little sister.

Yes, she'd had a sister, too. But she couldn't remember much of anything about her. Couldn't even really see her face. It was all just blurry images and strange sensations. Lena was pretty sure that the kid was dead. How could she be alive in a world like this with no family to fall back on?

Things between her and Daryl were pretty perfect for the most part. They still butted heads, and they had their share of disagreements. They were both just too hard-headed not to. But they always worked through it. They always came back to each other. There was just too much between them not to. And there was no one in the world she could imagine wanting. Daryl was everything to her. And he'd made it clear more than once that he felt the same way about her.

Lena still did her part in Alexandria. She taught others how to fight, and went out on supply runs. She helped in the gardens, and worked the walls. She'd found a pretty settled position in her new home. And the fact that Rick and his group had pretty much 'adopted' her as one of their own certainly helped. People looked up to her, respected her. And she honestly couldn't quite understand it. Despite what people told her, she was modest about it all. She just couldn't see what the big deal was. She did her part. Plain and simple.

Like today, she was helping Abraham, Michonne and Rick move cars off the road. For the most part, the main roads around Alexandria had been pretty much cleared by the group long before Lena had come to Alexandria. But Rick wanted to focus on side streets now, for better access and escape routes. It was Lena's turn behind the wheel of a small dump truck they'd gotten a hold of. It was sturdy enough to push vehicles away. She had to admit, it was pretty fun. The crunch of metal, the endless joking as they all worked in the hot sun. They kept at it non-stop, pretty much. It wasn't till the sun began to sizzle on the horizon that Rick signaled for her to park the truck.

"Let's head back. Get some food, clean up. We all did good today." He said when she hopped out, handing her the extra rifle. She had a new machete, it was strapped to her hip. But she still missed the shit out of the old one. They all began to walk back, side by side, down the streets they'd cleared.

"So, when are you and Daryl gonna have little crossbow wielding sledgehammers?" Abraham asked out of the blue, nudging Lena in the shoulder. She chuckled, glancing over at him with a smirk.

"When all the condoms run out." She quipped. They all laughed slightly at that. Michonne hooked a hand into Lena's elbow.

"Your head is way too far up your ass, Abraham. Might want to pull it out a bit." The beautiful chocolate skinned woman said. Abraham took a few steps forward and turned around, stepping backwards with a grin.

"What fun would that be?" He wiggled his eyebrows and Rick shook his head.

"Glad you and Daryl are doing so well, Lena. Really. I think for as long as we've all known him, he's never really been this happy." Rick said at her side, smiling down at her kindly. Michonne nodded beside her. And Abraham rolled his eyes a little, falling back in step with the others.

"Had to suck the fun out of the moment, didn't ya." He said to Rick who just winked at Lena.

"Damn right, I did." Their leader said. Lena couldn't help but grin. She felt happy. It had been a good day. A good several months despite the hardships they'd all faced. But she was learning as long as they all faced it together, there wasn't anything they couldn't survive. She'd spent so long alone and struggling before Daryl found her, she literally never knew that there was a better way. Everyone in Alexandria taught her otherwise.

Ahead of them, a walker began to lumber out between a few of the cars they'd pushed together, the gap just big enough for it to push its skeletal frame through. It made wet groaning sounds when it saw them. Michonne just let go of Lena's arm and walked up to it, using her katana to cleanly slice its head off. No big deal. Right? Until they saw the tree line and the houses just past it. There wasn't just one walker. There were dozens. Maybe more. And they were following a bouncing light. Someone was on a bicycle, something clicking loudly in the spokes, heading straight... for home.

"Shit!" Rick and Abraham said in unison. And the four of them set out on a dead run without a word.

* * *

Carl saw the light further back from his post on the watch tower, a bouncing thing that was brighter than a regular flashlight. More like an LED lantern. With the sun now below the horizon line, it was the brightest thing out there. He turned, grabbing the radio and hitting the call button. "Glenn, you better get to the watch tower, quick." Glenn wasted no time signaling back. And he was up the ladder to meet Carl only a few minutes later. "Look, over there." He pointed. Glenn picked up a pair of binoculars and peered out. His eyes went wide almost immediately.

"Shit! Walkers! Lots of em!" He tossed the binoculars down. "Stay here. Look for the others!" He called as he slid down the ladder and ran to gather people. They were about to have a fight on their hands. The walls would hold, they had to. They'd made sure of it. But there was no way they could just let that many walkers roam around outside their gates. It was far too dangerous, and there were far too many. Carl kept peering out, watching the bobbing light. The binoculars allowed him to see all the shambling bodies weaving their way around houses and in the road. But whoever was on the bike was shrouded by a hooded jacket and a ski mask. His dad and the others who'd been out working on the roads were nowhere to be seen.

"Come on, where are you?" He muttered to himself, just as a series of whistles began to bounce around the town, sending out the call for help.


	23. "We can't take any chances, either way."

Daryl had barely come back an hour before, busy gutting and skinning the dear he'd landed, set up just outside a shed he'd help build for storing and curing hides. No point in just using the meat, after all. He was half way through rigging the deer up to drain when he heard the whistles. They bounced back and forth, shrill and short, like everyone had planned. He quickly stepped away from the deer, grabbing his rag from his back pocket and hastily cleaning his hands before sticking his fingers in his mouth and letting loose a high whistle of his own.

His crossbow was in his hands and he was running a bare second later. A hundred thoughts went through his head. Was this another damn drill? Rick liked to do those sometimes. Just out of the blue, day or night, let out the call. Sure, it kept everyone on their toes and ready. But it could be damned annoying. Of course, if it wasn't a drill, it could be any number of things.

When he reached the gate, a crowd was gathering. "Glenn!" He called, slowing his steps, some people getting out of his way. "What is it?" He demanded, slinging his crossbow over his shoulder just as he reached the Korean man. It was amazing, in some ways, to see how much Glenn had grown. He used to be a push around, shy kid. But these days, he was as much a leader as any of them.

"Walkers. Dozens of em. Being lead by some guy on a bike." He said. Daryl swore under his breath. And between himself and Glenn, they began barking orders, sending people in hiding or ordering them to follow.

"Carl! Any sign of the others?" Daryl called up as Glenn gathered their people by the gate, guns and rifles and knives and bats in their hands. Carl peered over the edge at Daryl and shook his head.

"No, but it's getting harder to see with it so dark out there." The teenager called down.

"Fuck." Daryl swore, then just moved for the gate. Everything happened fast, then. The guy with the bike had disappeared, leaving the brightly lit lantern and the bike itself in the middle of the road. The walkers, however, only piled up near the light momentarily, realizing there was a much bigger source of light and people down the road. They began lumbering toward the gate. "Everyone get ready!" Daryl called over his shoulder, then he and Glenn yanked the gate wide open. Their people poured out, creating a line of defense as far as they could. After the gate was closed, Daryl took up his place near the middle. _Here goes nothin..._ he thought, just before he let his first arrow loose and the mayhem began.

* * *

"I'm not alone, you know." _Lena heard the girl say from somewhere far off inside the quiet dark._ "Not really. There's lots of us!" _She heard the girl laugh then. And for once, it was more eerie than pleasant. There was no chance to respond, because something was grabbing a-hold of her, dragging her out of the void..._

"Lena!" She heard Rick roar in her ear, his strong hands on her arms. She stopped whatever it was she'd been doing, breathing heavily, eyes going wide. Seven walkers dead at her feet.

"I'm good." She said, voice tense. She felt him let go of her, Michonne stepping up past her to slice at another walker. Abraham was slightly ahead, using the butt of his rifle to pound a walker into the side of a minivan.

"We're too far behind, the rest would have reached home by now, we gotta move!" Rick ordered, stepping past her. They all began running again. It was strange, going from the quiet dark back into reality and just keep moving like nothing happened. But that's what she'd been teaching herself to do. And the fact that people didn't dwell on her blackouts helped.

"Rick, duck!" She yelled, rick dodging sideways as she used her rifle to shoot a walker in the head that had almost taken a chunk out of Rick's back. He straightened, nodding at her, and they kept moving. They were only about five minutes away at a dead run, but in her head it felt like eternity. All their friends, their families, their homes. Everything was in jeopardy. She knew they'd planned for situations much like this, did drills and all that. But the fear was there that something could go wrong, someone would mess up, people would die. And her biggest fear, of all the things that could happen, was losing Daryl. But she would never say it out loud. Everyone was worried for someone. Her fear wasn't special.

The closer they got, the more walkers there seemed to be. They mowed their way through them, having to pretty much be back to back at one point. Where one went down, another seemed to come up from behind. She and Rick worked in tandem, Abraham and Michonne following suit. They couldn't see it, but they could hear their people fighting along the gate and walls like they'd practiced. The sound of weapons hitting rotten heads and yells and shouts filled the night air. There were a few pops from guns, and someone yelled to put the guns away. Probably whoever was in the tower had noticed the four of them making their way inward.

There was no way to know how long it all lasted. It felt like an eternity went by. When suddenly, there was nothing but the sound of panting people, sweaty and gore covered, the air humid and rank. People were scattered along the walls and in front of the gate, some in the road along with Rick, Michonne, Abraham and herself. Then someone laughed.

"Sonofabitch, we did it." Aaron said, grinning in the dim light. A quiet cheer went up, low and weighted laughter as people just took stock of one another, really breathing for the first time since it all started. Lena couldn't help but feel a little strange. Seeing all those relieved faces. It was all too neat and tidy for her. She moved up to the lantern and the discarded bike, then. She reached down and picked the lantern up. Rick was watching her, and he slowly moved up to her side, meeting her gaze.

"We should get everyone back in, now. We'll do a head count and get a group together to go out and get any strays." He ordered loud enough for everyone to hear, then reached forward and shut the lantern off, taking it from her hands.

It was then that Daryl reached her, his crossbow in one hand as he simply stepped up to her and pulled her into him with his free arm. She went willingly, her head falling to his shoulder as she let out a deep breath. "You okay?" He asked her softly, speaking into her hair before he kissed the top of her head. She nodded against him, looking up to see his eyes. Even in the dark, she'd know his eyes anywhere.

"Yeah. Little rattled." She gave him a slight smile. "What about you?" He smirked slightly at her, turning and walking with her still in his hold.

"Ain't gettin rid of me that easy, girly." He said, both of them looking around as people began to go back through the now open gate. Once they were all in and the gate closed, they began doing roll call. Michonne, Abraham, Denise, Sasha, Rosita, Carol, Glenn, Maggie, Rick, Daryl and Lena all stood in a sort of semi-circle, talking, while everyone else was accounted for.

"Someone's messin with us. Lead those fuckers right to our front door." Abraham said, scratching at his rough red beard. Eugene nodded beside him.

"I am in violent agreement." He said plain faced, wiping at a rather nasty looking wet spot on his shirt. "This was no accident."

"Duh, Eugene." Rosita said, rolling her eyes at him. "Anyone get a good look at the guy on the bike?" Glenn shook his head.

"No. He was covered head to toe. Not even sure it was a he. Could have been a woman." He responded. Maggie pushed some of her hair out of her face and spoke next.

"Why? We haven't had any run-ins with any other groups for months. And anyone Daryl and Aaron have seen have all come back here or turned them down." Aaron nodded, shifting his rifle a bit.

"We've been careful. We don't reveal anything about Alexandria till we've learned about who they are. Or as much as we can. Whoever this was already knew about this place. It's the only explanation." Both Daryl and Lena seemed to go still at that, exchanging a look at each other that was all wariness. Carol saw them and reached out, touching Daryl's hand.

"What? I saw that look. What is it?" She asked, looking from one to the other. Daryl let his eyes move around the group, then shrugged a little.

"Might be Dylan." He said flatly, an edge of anger in his rough voice. They all grew silent at that, unspoken things carrying through the circle. They all knew what Dylan had done to Daryl and Lena. And though they both had long since healed, they knew how harsh a subject it was. Rick spoke up then.

"You really think he's alive?" He stepped forward a little, looking from his best friend to Lena. All she could do was nod firmly.

"I can't explain how or why. But I don't think he died. Abraham didn't find him at the farm house. There's no proof that he died. So... alive until proven otherwise."

"We can't take any chances, either way." Daryl said beside her, his hand moving to rest on her hip. "We get double duty on the walls, get a group around the outside perimeter till sun up." Rick nodded at that, gripping Daryl's shoulder as he turned to look at everyone else.

"Eugene, Maggie, get everyone we don't need back to their houses. Lights out. Noise to a minimum. Denise, go around make sure all the street lights are out. We need to be as unattractive as possible. Abraham and Glenn, walk the streets. Check all the walls inside, go around as many times as you have to, and get your groups for the walls. The rest of us will start looking for stragglers and secure the outer perimeter. We've got a long night ahead of us. Let's get it done."

With orders given, everyone dispersed. There was work to be done, a -maybe- new enemy to be wary of, and a whole lot of hours till morning. It was going to be a very long night indeed. Michonne, Rick, Daryl, Lena and Rosita spent nearly three of those hours just walking around the entire outskirts of Alexandria, killing any walkers they found and dragging the bodies from the earlier massacre out of the road. Carl stayed in the watch tower. And after Maggie and Eugene finished up, they joined him and the other Alexandrians on the walls.

There were no real incidents after that. And no evidence of the bike riding shrouded person who'd attempted to hurt them. It was nearing sunrise and Lena was standing near the gate, leaning against a telephone pole, head back, eyes closed momentarily. She was sticky with sweat, grundgy from killing and moving walkers, filthy head to toe. And yet, she could feel Daryl move up in front of her, pressing his lips very chastely and softly to hers.

She opened her eyes, blinking at him. He smiled lightly. "Come on. We're headin in." He took her hand in his and lead her toward the gate where Michonne was wiping a rag across her katana and Rick was wiping his brow with his sleeve. Rosita was already inside.

"We'll clean up, get fed, rest a bit. Then we're callin a town meeting. We've all got a lot of questions and not a lot of answers. People are bound to still be scared." Rick said as they all stepped in, Carl closing the gate behind them and securing it before coming up beside his dad. Rick hooked an arm around the younger Grimes' shoulders and they all went their separate ways, eager to be rid of the filth and sit for a minute.

* * *

Lena was more than happy to get in the shower. To get the stink off was like heaven. Even better when it was Daryl washing her down. They took turns, just cleaning one another. They were both too beat to be sexual. But it was nice to just feel each other's hands, to reaffirm their need for each other, and the fact that they'd both made it through the night in one piece. Once her hair was thoroughly rinsed out, he put an arm to either side of her, hands planted on the shower wall. And he kissed her, a loving and tender dance of mouths. For a moment, it took away all the worry in her head. Worry that Dylan really had reared his ugly head again. Or just as bad, maybe a new threat had found their home. Either way, it didn't bode well. But in that moment, she could forget. Because she was with Daryl. And nothing was better than that.

* * *

And somewhere in Alexandria, hidden in the basement of one of the few empty houses left, a figure sat patiently, waiting for the calm...


	24. "Oh my god, what do I say to Daryl?!"

It would be a week of moving around in the shadows before that silent figure would go to the wall, the depths of night fully upon Alexandria. The uproar and fear of the small horde of walkers the residents had expertly eliminated had died down to merely a wary confusion. No one knew what had become of the lantern wielding bicycle rider. And, at this point, no one would. For the time being, at least.

With gloved hands, the figure pulled up onto a beam, climbing like a veritable monkey and leaping from a ledge to another beam, climbing again till they were on the very edge of the wall. Before anyone could notice or dare to see in the dark, the figure hopped off, hitting a row of bushes on the other side and rolling into the street beyond.

In the bag on the figure's back were trinkets, written notes, little things that told so much about the residents here. Things that would come in handy in the months to come. Information, no matter how seemingly small, was priceless. And oh the information this figure had collected right underneath their noses! Priceless, indeed.

The figure stood in the bushes, glancing back from beneath its ski mask, gray eyes twinkling with slight humor before the bag was shrugged into place and the figure strolled idly away, disappearing eventually into the abandoned neighborhoods beyond the walls...

* * *

He rolled over in bed, eyes still closed, reaching out with one arm for Lena, only to find her gone. Again. That was the third time in two nights, and he knew exactly where to find her. He tossed the sheets off, wearing only a pair of gray sweatpants, bare feet carrying him to the bathroom to find her kneeling in front of the toilet, retching. He instantly crouched beside her, gathering her hair away from her. Her face was pale, her forehead beaded with sweat. He watched her with quiet concern. "Hey," he said, his voice rough with sleep, "I got ya." His free hand rubbed her lower back. When it finally seemed like she was done, she sat back on the cold floor, pressing her back to the wall as he flushed the toilet and wet a wash cloth, handing it down to her.

"I'm takin you to see Denise." He said firmly, moving her hair out of her face. She frowned over at him, dropping her hand with the wash cloth in it from her mouth.

"No, Daryl. I'm fine. Really. Just a stomach bug or something." She said, folding the wash cloth in half and rubbing her forehead with it. He frowned back at her.

"Stomach bug, my ass. That's two nights now. Yer fine all day long and then this at night. Somethin's wrong." He said reaching down and helping her stand, keeping her steady in his arms for a moment. "Don't be so damn stubborn." She smirked lightly at him.

"Pot calling the kettle black, right there." She said, then put her head against him, closing her arms around him and sighing. "Let's just go back to bed. Please?" She asked, listening to his heart beat, her cheek against his bare chest. He sighed, then reached up and took her face in his hands.

"Only if you promise to go see the doc with me in the mornin." He demanded. She blinked at him, then gave a slight nod. "Good girly." He said, then kissed her head. He lead her back to the bedroom, pulling a sheet over her once they were back in bed. She laid with her back to him, cozying up against his chest as he wrapped an arm around her. She hugged his hand to her, and it wasn't long before he felt her breathing steady and slow, signaling she'd fallen asleep.

With everything that had been going on, she'd been pushing herself a lot. They'd burned all the walkers, and both of them had pulled extra shifts on the wall. But there was no sign of whoever it was that had set the small herd on them. And there had been very few walkers to contend with since. Things were settling down. But, like the others in their close knit group, he was still nervous. It felt all too simple. Like there was something huge they were missing. And sleep didn't come as easy as it should have. He wondered if Lena was just stressed out, or maybe she really was just a little sick like she said. Either way, he'd make sure she took care of herself better from this point on.

He nuzzled the back of her head, knowing she was fast asleep but spoke anyway, "Love you." He whispered, then closed his eyes, hoping to maybe get a few more hours before morning came.

* * *

"So just randomly nauseous?" Denise asked, shaking out the thermometer and sticking it in Lena's mouth. Daryl nodded. He was leaning against the back wall, his arms crossed over his chest, watching to make sure Lena didn't try to weasel her way out of the exam like she'd tried to do at breakfast.

"I feel fine now." She muttered around the thermometer. Denise shushed her almost instantly.

"Don't talk while that's in your mouth or you'll screw up the reading." She said, and Lena sighed, rolling her eyes a little and crossing her arms like a pouting kid. Daryl had to smile at her a little. "There's been a cold going around. Maybe it's just affecting you differently." Denise said, grabbing a blood pressure cuff and slipping it onto Lena's arm just as the door opened to reveal Rick, who stepped in and looked immediately at Lena and Denise.

"Sorry, Carol said you guys were here. Am I interrupting anythang?" He asked, and Daryl pushed off the wall, walking lazily toward Rick.

"Not unless you count girly here bein a bad patient." Daryl said, and Lena narrowed her eyes on him, fighting the urge to spit out the thermometer and stick out her tongue. "What's up?"

"Can I borrow you? Somethin I want you to see." Said Rick, looking over at Lena. "Promise I'll get him back to ya soon." He smiled at her. She just glared at both men. They laughed and Daryl pointed at her.

"Stay. Good girly." He said and left the room with Rick before Lena could protest even a little. She was sure to let him have it later. Denise took the cuff off and set it aside.

"Pressure's a little high." She remarked, then pulled the thermometer out of Lena's mouth, shrugging a little. "Temp's fine." She set it aside.

"See? I told you." Lena said, moving to hop off the bed until Denise put out a hand to stop her.

"Wait, not so fast. Answer some questions first." She moved past the bed and Lena, heading toward the cabinets. She began rifling around for something. "Have you been having any night sweats? Mood swings? That sorta thing?" Lena followed her movements and furrowed her brows in slight confusion.

"Um... The night sweats thing, maybe. Wouldn't know about the mood swings." She tapped her head right where her scar was, cracking a smile. "Crazy, and all." She dropped her hand, Denise cast her a sideways glance and a smile as she pulled a box out.

"What about your period? Regular?" She asked, moving back to Lena. Lena raised a brow.

"Depends on what you mean by regular. It usually comes and goes when it wants so I don't really keep track of it." She said, looking down at the box in Denise's hands. "What's that?" Denise looked a little speechless for a moment, then cleared her throat and handed the box to Lena.

"A pregnancy test." Denise said. And Lena's jaw dropped, looking from the box in her hand to Denise and back again.

"Nu uh, nope." She shook her head, staring back at Denise as she felt the heat rise to her cheeks. "We've been careful! We use protection!" She blurted out. Denise reached out and laid a hand on her shoulder.

"Hey, it's okay. I'm sure you have. Look, just take the test to be sure. Humor me. Okay?" Denise let her shoulder go and motioned to the door. "I'll wait here." For a moment, all Lena could do was sit there, her heart racing in her chest. Then she very slowly slipped off the bed and headed for the hallway bathroom...

* * *

The basement was entirely empty except for the storage space directly under the stairs. There were food wrappers, a discarded blanket, and a book. Like someone had made a camp. Daryl crouched down, picking up a piece of paper laid in the middle. "Lucky you, you finally found where I was hiding. Too late. I'm already gone." He read out loud, then stood up, letting the paper fall. "So that sonofabitch climbed the wall and hid in here the whole time?" He turned to look at Rick who was standing next to Glenn, watching Daryl's reaction. "How'd we miss this? Who the fuck checked this house?" Daryl growled out angrily, moving up to the other two men.

"Sam, Liam and that Russian guy who's name I can never pronounce." Rick said, Glenn unfolded his arms and took his hat off, shaking it out and shoving it in his back pocket.

"We call him Rif." Said Glenn.

"I don't care what the fuck you call him. Those bastards missed that asshole, he was right under their noses." Daryl couldn't help his temper sometimes. He was a firm believer that if you were going to do a thing, do it right. Rick shook his head.

"They probably just shone the light down. From the staircase, it looks empty. And if the guy didn't make any noise, they wouldn't have noticed him." He said, and Daryl turned to look at the stairs.

"Shit." He crossed his arms, shifting on his feet. "What're we gonna tell the others?" Rick let out a sigh.

"For right now, we tell only our group. Leave the rest in the dark. People are still shaken from the attack in the first place, no need to scare them further. Whatever this guy wanted, he's gone now. So we add more watch posts, set up shifts with as many people as we can. At the moment, it's the best we can do." Rick answered, moving for the stairs. "Get another group together. We're going to do a thorough sweep. Make it seem as routine as possible." He told Glenn, who followed him up, the sounds of their boots thumping against the wooden stairs.

Daryl looked back at the little space the intruder had slept in and clenched his jaw. If someone could sneak in under their noses like that, there was no telling what he'd done while he was there. And that was more unsettling a thought than anything else. He followed the other two men, still quietly seething. This was going to be an interesting conversation with Lena. He could only imagine how pissed she would be, which typically amused Daryl, mostly because he found her sexy as hell when she was angry. The idea made him smirk a little. And he headed back for the clinic.

* * *

Lena couldn't stop staring at the two little lines, like it was some cosmic joke. Denise was holding the test in her hand now, both brows raised. "That's... well... that's very positive." She said softly, looking over at Lena who was just sort of staring ahead numbly. "Hey." She set the test aside, moving up to Lena's side. "You okay?"

For a moment, all she did was stare at Denise, then she blinked and swallowed. "I don't know." She said honestly. "I'm... I'm pregnant. How could I be pregnant?" She asked, knowing how stupid that question was, but she was in a bit of shock. "I mean..." she let out a breath, running both hands through her thick black hair and then instantly just plopping down in the armchair behind her. Denise stood there watching her. "What do I do?" Another stupid question, probably. "I'm amnesia-girl, for crying out loud." She blurted, "I don't know the first thing about kids." She then met Denise's gaze as a realization hit her. "Oh my god, what do I say to Daryl?!" She demanded, her voice slightly shrill with panic as she suddenly stood.

Denise grabbed both of Lena's hands and laughed a little. "Calm down, for one thing. Lena, it's okay. Women have kids all the time." Lena realized she was shaking a little. Of all the things she could do and had faced, this somehow seemed more scary than anything. Denise pulled her in for an unexpected hug, and Lena didn't bother to stop her. "You're going to do fine, you're one of the best people I know. Even if you don't see it, the rest of us do." She pulled away and smiled at Lena. "And as for Daryl, just tell him. He might just surprise you."

"Tell me what?" Daryl asked, stepping in to the room, sauntering up to the two women, looking slightly confused. And if Lena had been scared a moment ago, she was terrified now. All she could do was swallow, Denise looking from one to the other and stepping out of the room without a word. Lena almost wanted to beg her to stay, but she didn't get the chance. Daryl came right to her. "Hey, you alright?" He asked softly, searching her eyes. She closed her mouth, opened it to speak, then closed it again. "Jus tell me, Lena. What's wrong?" He sounded so concerned. It totally undid her. And before she could stop herself, the words came out in one quick, concise and clear sentence.

"I'm pregnant."


	25. "Why the hell would you ask that?"

Daryl was sitting on their couch at their house, staring at the floor, the shock finally having worn off. He hadn't been able to say anything, like an idiot. He'd just turned around and headed out the door, wandering around the neighborhood in a daze.

The moment he heard the word 'pregnant', it was like someone had flipped a switch. And all he could hear was Merle telling him how he'd fuck up his kid royally, and that he would never be dad material. And then he heard his father's voice, telling him he would never be good enough, never amount to nothin. Those words ran in circles over and over and over again till he realized... he'd walked out on Lena.

He could only imagine how much that had hurt her. He remembered her face, so stunned. _Such a fucking idiot, Dixon,_ he'd thought. He'd gone back to find her, but she'd disappeared. Denise said she'd just left without a word. So he went back to wait for her at the house, and had been sitting in that same spot on the couch for over an hour. Daryl began to bounce one leg up and down, then stood up, pacing slightly.

"Such an asshole!" He growled out at himself, then punched the wall, just as Lena came through the door. She stopped completely, eyes a little wide, watching him. He shook his hand out, looking at her, breathing heavily. All the things he'd thought about saying to her, to try to make things right, just suddenly disappeared from his head. He took a step toward her, then stopped.

"Lena..." He swallowed, squeezing his now hurting hand a little with his other hand. She looked away, letting the screen door close behind her as she took a further step in. He couldn't take it, the emotion just bubbled up within him like a volcano. He closed the distance and swallowed her in a hug before she could move. "I'm so sorry." He choked out, burying his face in her hair. It was only a moment before her hands came up and clung to his back, curling the material of his vest. He couldn't help the hot tears that fled his eyes. He hid his emotions well most of the time. But when it came to anger, or it came to sorrow, there was just no hiding it. When he pulled back, his tears were right there for her to see.

Daryl held her face in his hands. "Lena... damn. When you said you were pregnant... when you told me..." He shook his head a little, flattening his forehead to hers, "All I could hear was Merle and my pops tellin me what a deadbeat I am, what a terrible father I'd be. I'm so sorry I walked out like that." He felt her start crying, lifting his head away from hers.

"Daryl, no!" She gripped the front of his vest in two fists. "Don't you ever, EVER, listen to them. They're not here. Even if they were, they don't know you anymore." She said, her eyes all stern love and pride. At him. He let out a small noise, more tears coming down. "I love you, I love you so much." She said to him, hugging him again, her arms thrown around his neck. He just clung to her. God, he didn't deserve her. "We'll make this work. We've got this. You and me. Like always." She said, her voice shaken with her own tears.

And they just clung to each other like that, even when a soft rain began to fall outside.

* * *

When Daryl walked out on her, all she could do at the time was stand there in complete silence. It wasn't till Denise came back in the room, asking what Daryl had to say, that Lena left. Quickly and without a word. And she'd gone straight for the gate, standing there staring out. Luckily, no one bothered her or asked why she was there. She wasn't even sure how much time had passed. All she could keep thinking was that Daryl didn't want this baby, that this was all a horrible accident. And she tried to convince herself she didn't want it, either. What business did she have being a mother? Especially in a world like this. She admired Rick for raising his little girl and son the way he did. She didn't think, even a little, that she could be that strong.

When she got back to the house, and Daryl told her what had actually happened with him, all she could do was cry and tell him how wrong he was. Because it was the truth. He was so much better than his past, and one hundred times the man his brother or father had been. She'd never met them, but she knew damn well it was true. Daryl was the epitome of good. He had his code, he never stood for injustice, he was loyal and strong, devoted to his family and friends, and completely faithful to her. He had such a capacity for love and kindness, and he didn't even know it. She admired his morality, his willingness to always do what was right even if it wasn't popular. And as always, she loved him for it all. _"For everything you are, and everything you're not. And everything I am when I'm with you."_ She'd said to him.

Now, they were laying in bed, staring at each other. It was still raining, the night cool and far less humid than it had been in weeks. They'd talked all day, about what it all meant. It was such a new idea to them, the fact that they even could be parents, that they were both still in a state of slight shock. "What if I screw this all up?" She asked him, his fingers in her hair, his thumb stroking her cheek. He paused, lifting his head a little.

"Why the hell would you ask that?" He propped himself up on one elbow, she rolled on to her back and stared up at him.

"I barely remember who I was. What do I know about parenthood?" She said quietly. He frowned lightly at her, then took in a deep breath, letting it out slow as he looked down the length of her. With one hand, he lifted her t-shirt just enough to see her stomach. Then he put his warm, calloused hand flat upon it.

"Bout as much as I do. But like you said," He began to stroke her soft skin, "We got this." He looked back at her, and she couldn't help but smile softly, feeling like crying happily for the umpteenth time that day.

"Have a mentioned I love you, yet?" She asked, putting both her hands over the one he had on her stomach. He smirked at her, that wry smile that usually undid her.

"Yep. But you can say it as much as you like." He said, lowering his lips to hers and whispering, "Cause I love you, too, girly." And he kissed her.

Things were still scary, for them both, no doubt. But they'd been through hell and back. And they always managed to come out the other side in one piece, still together. Like with everything else, they'd figure this out. They'd make this work. Or they'd die trying.


	26. "Didn't I tell you we weren't done?"

Two months passed, and Lena had bounced back and forth with morning sickness. Which, unfortunately, never seemed to happen in the morning. Always at night. But she was a trooper. She did all her duties around Alexandria and never complained once. When they had time together, she would read to Daryl out of the 'What To Expect When You're Expecting' book that Maggie had found. Or she'd play her ukulele and sing. Or he'd just dote on her endlessly.

If anyone from his past saw him now, they wouldn't think it was possible that he could be so attentive to a woman. But here he was, spoiling her as best he could, in the only ways he knew how. If only the woman would slow down long enough, he'd probably do much more. But she was a spitfire. And he wouldn't change her for the world.

It was getting cooler again. Autumn was on its way. And everyone was doing what they could to stock up for winter. Runs were longer and farther out, looking for canned goods and non-perishable food, medicine and supplies. And the hunters in the group would go out as often as they could to get fresh meat to store. Like today. The weather was perfect for hunting. He'd gotten up extra early and Daryl didn't plan on coming back without at least a buck in tow.

"Ready when you are." He heard Lena say from behind him, turning to look at her over his shoulder.

"Ready for what?" He asked, finishing stuffing the camouflaged tarp into his pack before zipping it shut and standing, slipping it onto his back and turning completely to look at her.

"For hunting." She said. She had her boots on, her thick jeans, her fleece jacket. And her favorite worn out pack was on her back, her thumbs hooked into the straps. "Got nothing to do today or tomorrow. Maggie and Carol took my shift in the tower, and I don't have any classes for three more days, so..." She shrugged and grinned at him, "I'm coming with you." He raised both brows at her, then couldn't help but smile a little.

"Sure that's a good idea?" He asked, settling his hands on her hips. She narrowed her gaze at him.

"I'm pregnant, Daryl. Not an invalid." She swatted at him and stepped back, he chuckled lightly. "Besides, I'm getting pretty good at it. You're a good teacher." She turned her back on him and headed down the stairs into the living room, not giving him much of a chance to argue.

It had been a heck of an adjustment for them both, the idea of being parents. But they were coming to terms with it more and more every day. It was to the point now where they couldn't imagine not being parents, and the baby wasn't even close to being born. Denise figured Lena was at about nine weeks, give or take. Of course, there was no real way to tell. But they were making sure they were prepared, either way. He grabbed up his crossbow, and followed her outside, closing the door behind him.

They took one of the pickups, heading North toward the large forest that stretched into a valley of old and overgrown farmland. The drive was nice. The sky was gray, but even if it rained, they should have some luck near the river he'd found last time he was out. He'd managed to snag two does within minutes of each other there before. So hopefully, this trip would be just as fruitful. When they got to the forest, he parked the truck off into the edge of the woods so they could hide it with branches and brush. Then they walked for a good twenty minutes, mostly quiet, sometimes talking. It was nice, that she didn't expect to always be chatting. She was an expert at picking up on his mood and his thoughts. It was part of the reason why they worked so well together.

The closer they got to the river, he began looking for signs of any animal activity. He'd learned that Lena was ridiculously good at reading people and figuring out their motives. But she was terrible at tracking, something he ribbed her about from time to time. So she was just following him quietly, watching his every move. Even though she didn't really have a grasp on it, she still studied him. Always eager to learn.

He finally caught a trail and pointed it out to her silently, motioning her forward with him. It was relatively fresh. They might just catch up. It was probably a doe. The hoof prints were too small to be a full grown buck. When they got to a decline, just before the river, he stopped and pointed down. There it was, a doe. She was drinking from the edge of the river, front hooves splayed lightly. And it looked like she was very pregnant. A little late in the season for a pregnant dear, but he shrugged that thought away, raising his crossbow only to have Lena put a hand on it. "No, Daryl. Don't. She's pregnant." She said quietly, right by his ear. He glanced at her, then let out a slow breath, lowering the crossbow.

"Softy." He said to her. And she smiled at him warmly.

"You love it and you know it." She said, and then there was a sound. Like something was flicked right past them. Her hand flew up to her neck and her eyes went a little wide. "Daryl?" She said his name like a question, then her hand dropped. And so did she. She crumpled to the ground. Before he could react, there was another flick. His hand went to this throat and plucked out a little dart with red on the end. And suddenly the world got very hazy, his body felt like it weighed a thousand pounds, and he fell to the ground right beside Lena, his crossbow tumbling down the incline and startling the deer who ran off. He blinked heavily, reaching out for Lena. Her eyes were closed.

"Lena..." he whispered lightly, his vision spinning, the smell of wet earth filling his nostrils. And as he heard footsteps approaching, crunching leaves just behind him, the world went dark and he passed out.

* * *

 _The last thing she remembered was the pregnant deer. She felt like it was there with her, walking around in the quiet dark. The hoof falls were echoing all around her, like the doe couldn't find just one place to stand. She heard the girl giggling,_ 'She's pretty.' _Lena felt so heavy, floating there in the void. Nothing seemed real, or less real than it normally did there._ 'You might want to wake up, Lena...' _The girl said suddenly, her voice shaken like she was afraid all of a sudden._ 'The devil is back, and he doesn't want you to go home!'

'The devil? What devil? Where?!' _Demanded Lena. But the only response was the hoof falls of the deer, growing louder and louder until it was all she could hear. It even drowned out the sound of her heart beating._

She smelled wetness. Mildew and stuffy air. And she was cold. Her flesh was freezing, like she'd been laying in snow without layers. It took everything she had to force her eyes open, and even then it was difficult to see. Everything was blurry shades of orange and brown. Her body felt like someone had molded weights to every muscle. Nothing wanted to work. And that sound. That clanking, over and over. Like someone was tapping something metal against a wooden table. It wasn't until after she managed to lift her chin off her chest that it stopped.

She desperately tried to focus, blinking rapidly, staring straight ahead and willing her eyes to see what was in front of her. But once her eyes did begin working normally, her breath caught in her throat. Sitting in a chair up against a metal pole was Daryl. His arms were tied behind his back, his legs were tied to the chair, a gag was in his mouth and he was out cold. She let out a heavy breath and tried to yell his name, but it only came out as a muffled cry. That was the moment she realized she was gagged, too. And not just gagged. Her legs were tied to the chair she was sitting in, her hands tied behind her, just like Daryl.

It was then she felt something touch her neck, and she tried to shy away from it, only to have a hand harshly grip her hair and yank her head back, forcing her to look up. And what she saw made her blood run cold, her jaw clench, her eyes seethe with rage.

"Didn't I tell you we weren't done?" Dylan Rogers said, shoving her head forward with a laugh that echoed in the empty, falling apart basement he'd brought them to. "We're finally going to have some real fun, you and I." He said, moving away from her toward a wooden table. She began to breathe heavier, panic filling her veins when she saw all the knives and tools on top of it. She watched him pick up a hammer, spinning it in one hand.

"Oh, real fun indeed."


	27. "Now that's interesting..."

The struggle of waking up had him reeling with anger. His body wasn't doing what he wanted it to. At least not right away. When he finally managed to make his eyes focus, it was like someone flipped a switch. He raged against his bonds, roaring against the rag in his mouth at the sight of Lena tied to a chair, and got a solid punch in the jaw for the trouble. He heaved several breaths, turning his eyes to see who'd punched him, only to get even angrier.

"Morning, princess." Dylan Rogers said to him, shaking out his hand a little. "Have to forgive me, my arm isn't as strong as it used to be. Thanks to you two." He began to walk around them both in a slow circle. Daryl stared at Lena, who met his gaze with such a crazy mix of emotion, he couldn't help but wonder if she'd blackout. There was anger, fear, concern, grief. It was painted in her dark eyes like a portrait. All Daryl could do was twist at his wrists, pain searing his flesh as the rope stretched and dug in. Rogers didn't seem to care, or notice.

He had a hammer in his hand, spinning it round and round with every step. "You know, I'm a man with... particular tastes. I'm usually happy terrorizing as many people as I can. But when I saw you," He stopped, pointing at Lena, who glanced at him like she wanted to rip his throat out. _That's my girl,_ Daryl thought. "You were like a beacon." He moved in front of her, crouching before her, one hand on her knee, the other dragging the hammer idly across the floor. "I know a kindred spirit when I see one." He was grinning at her, and she was just staring him down. Like if she could, she'd make him burst into flames by sheer force of will alone. "Couldn't get close to you, though." He said suddenly, standing and turning, pointing the hammer at Daryl. "Not with Captain Crossbow here always hanging around."

He moved up to Daryl, reaching over and gripping Daryl's thigh, squeezing just below where Daryl's wound had been. "How's the leg, redneck? Better than my arm, by the looks of it. No limp or anything. We're going to have to fix that." He let go of Daryl's leg, standing up straighter. Daryl wanted nothing more than to rip Dylan's throat out. "You made it really too easy to catch you both, by the way." He said, walking again, this time around Daryl, stopping just behind him and resting his hands on Daryl's shoulders, the hammer hanging just over his bicep. "I'd been watching for months. You're a creature of habit. I knew eventually Lena'd follow you out. It was like... Christmas." He laughed softly. Then stepped back. Daryl couldn't feel him anymore. But by the look on Lena's face, and the fact she started struggling hard, yelling against her gag, he knew something bad was about to happen.

The pain was instant and terrible. The hammer smashed into his leg, right on the same spot he'd been shot those months ago. It caused instant sweat to bead, his voice muffled as he yelled out, straining against the ropes so hard, he could feel blood on his hands. His whole leg was twitching momentarily. It hurt straight to the bone. His breathing came quick and heavy. And Lena, his Lena, was in a rage. She yelled and yelled, the muffled sounds meeting his ears as he focused on breathing the pain out. Dylan appeared from out behind him then, and Daryl gave him a sideways, pained and angry look. "Oh, come on, now. That wasn't so bad, was it?" He asked, then reached forward and grabbed Daryl's gag, yanking it off.

"I'm going to fucking kill you!" Daryl practically spat at Dylan, his voice clearly pained and rough. Dylan laughed a little, and turned for the table. "You hear me, you sonofabitch! I'm gonna rip yer face off!" Daryl yelled at him. Dylan dropped the hammer on the table top. It hit the wood with a loud thud, shaking the other items on it.

"I doubt that. I really do. But, you go ahead and stay positive now." He grabbed a small knife off the table, wiping it idly against his sleeve before turning toward Lena.

"Don't you touch her, you hear me! Don't you fucking touch her!" Daryl kept yelling, still struggling. The pain was nothing, inconsequential. He'd break every bone in his body to keep that bastard away from Lena. Dylan reached forward and yanked Lena's gag out. She practically bared her teeth at him.

"I'm going to skin you alive." She said so calmly, and yet with so much rage, it sent chills through the air. Dylan took a mock step backward, hands up in a fake surrender.

"Now see?" He pointed at her, glancing at Daryl. "That's what I'm talking about. That cold, calculated anger. The kind that drives people to kill. Same stuff that flows through my veins. Right?" He grinned, then looked back at Lena.

"I'm nothing like you, you sick fuck." She swore at him, twisting her hands behind her much like Daryl was. Dylan seemed to pause, then stepped behind her like he had with Daryl.

"Don't. Don't you fucking do it!" Daryl yelled at him, pulling at the ropes so tightly that his muscles strained painfully and he even heard his wrist pop slightly. Dylan just smiled at him.

"I wonder, I mean... I've never actually seen it. Do you feel pain, Lena?" And with one quick thrust, Dylan drove the knife into her shoulder. The look on her face spoke myriads. She yelled out, and then breathed quickly, her breath hissing through her teeth, her eyes squeezed shut. Daryl pulled so hard at the ropes, he felt a momentary loosening.

"You fucker!" He yelled at Dylan, spittle flying with rage, who just yanked the knife out and stepped toward the table. Lena cried out one more time, then her face started to take on that silent gleam she got just before she blanked out. "Lena, girly, look at me. Look at me!" Daryl urged her. And, to his relief, she forced herself to meet his eyes. "Stay with me. Don't blank on me now, okay?" For her, his voice was encouraging. He could see her trying to hold on to reality, to keep her head from taking her out of the game. She nodded, slowing her breathing. All the while, Dylan watched.

"Now that's interesting." He said, sitting his rear down on the edge of the table. "So the redneck is your grounding point, eh?" Both Daryl and Lena looked at Dylan at the same time.

"Fuck you." They said in unison. If the situation wasn't so awful, it might have been funny to hear and see. And Dylan certainly found humor in it. He chuckled. Then lifted up his shirt just enough to show a terrible looking, ragged scar the size of a soft ball.

"You know, since you two tried to blow me up," He tapped his scar with the bloody knife, "I haven't been able to poop right. Shit," he dropped his shirt and tossed the knife behind him on the table. "I have to talk to my dick just to make it piss." He stood then, turning his back to them and staring down at all the tools before him. "I don't think you're smart enough to have come up with the grenade trip wires, Daryl. No, I think that was all Lena." He reached forward and grabbed something neither one of them could see from where he was standing.

"I was going to torture you," He said, turning to look at Daryl, a stun gun in his hand, "Take my time doing it. And then Lena and I here, we were going to have a great time trying to make babies before I killed her, too." Both Daryl and Lena pulled at their ropes again, an urgency in the small sounds that escaped Lena's throat. Daryl put all the anger he had in the stare he gave Dylan.

"You touch her, I swear to god I'll-" Daryl began, but Dylan cut him off by stepping forward.

"You'll what?" He asked, "Swear at me some more? Go for it, big boy. Because I am going to torture you, both of you. Just not how I originally planned." He turned to look at Lena then. "You see, now that I know just what affect he has on you, it's going to hurt him so much more to see you suffer." He stepped toward her. "And it will hurt you like hell to know he has to watch." And without warning, he jammed the taser right into Lena's stomach. Her whole body jolted, volts of electricity surging through her body. She didn't have time to make a noise, her head going back, jaw clenched in pain. When he pulled the taser away, Lena was left gasping, tears streaming down her face. And Daryl was stunned himself, arms still unconsciously twisting at the ropes.

After a moment, both he and Lena exchanged painful looks. Because it wasn't just Lena getting hurt. It was the baby, too. All Daryl could do was scream out as Dylan used the taser on her again. And again. In the stomach. On his woman and their unborn child. And the world was suddenly all rage and murder. Daryl was a good man. But there was nothing but wrath in him at that moment. And he prayed to whatever gods were listening to let him loose, so he could shove that taser down Dylan's throat and squeeze...


	28. "I got ya, girly."

She felt like her grasp on reality was more like holding on to a rope covered in oil. She'd get a solid grip, then slip down again. She was passing in and out of the void like blinking. One second it was all darkness and the endless nothing, the next it was pain and Daryl calling to her and Dylan's disgusting voice.

'Lena. I know it hurts. I'm so sorry.' _The girl said at one point. There was no laughter from the child now. No humor or happy giggles._ 'But don't let the devil win. Stay home. Hold on. Home needs you, and you need home.' _Lena could only listen, because words were beyond her now. It was all just too much for her head to take._

After five times being stunned like a head of cattle, Dylan finally dropped the taser. He must have dumbed down the wattage because she wasn't dead. Daryl was like an animal, struggling, pained and urgent sounds coming from his mouth. Their captor didn't seem to notice, or just didn't care. "Gonna give you two a minute. Need to give the boy a pep talk and see if I can't piss a little." He said, moving toward a door at the other end of the dank basement. He disappeared, leaving Lena and Daryl alone for the first time.

"Girly, look at me. Jus look at me, please!" Daryl urged, unshed tears choking his words. Her body felt strange and lofty, and her stomach hurt. Not in any way she could describe. She lifted her head to meet Daryl's eyes, and she let out a soft sob.

"Daryl... the baby, the baby!" She began to panic. If her own body was so badly affected by all this, what about their child?! Daryl took in a breath and shook his head.

"Don't. Lena, don't lose it now. Jus look at me. Do you remember... when I told you that I was takin you out for a run for the first time?" He asked her. She could see his arms straining endlessly. There were small drops of blood on the floor behind him. "I told you, I said we got this." He began to breathe a little heavier, then let out an almost strangled sound. Suddenly, one hand flew up from behind him, bloody from the wrist down. "We got this." He suddenly looked determined. And instantly, a blossoming of hope flourished in her. He turned in his chair, desperately trying to get at the other hand, finally letting it loose. It was just as bloody as the other. He'd worked his wrists raw.

They heard bootfalls over their heads, someone walking on the floor above them. "Daryl, hurry!" She cried out softly, trying to find the strength to struggle against her own bonds. But her whole body felt fuzzy, like the connections between her nerves and her muscles just wasn't right. Daryl nearly whipped the rope off his left leg, tossing it off into the dark. Then he tried desperately to get the other one off. But Dylan was coming down the basement stairs.

"Shh, shhhh." Daryl said, and sat straight up, tucking his hands behind him and his free leg back against the leg of the chair. The door opened and Dylan stepped in, moving steadily toward the table, barely glancing at them. He was so sure and cocky. He never saw Daryl stand up, the chair dragging behind him, still attached to his leg. And Daryl was on him, tackling him forward and straight into the table, the tools and weapons spilling all over the floor.

Lena could only watch the struggle, then, and try so hard to stay focused and not slip back into the quiet dark. _'Home needs you.'_ The little girl had said. And home was Daryl, the man now fighting to keep his family alive.

* * *

It wasn't ideal, fighting with a chair attached to his leg. But Dylan solved that momentary problem for Daryl by shoving him backward, both of them landing in a heap on the chair itself. Daryl broke the damn thing to pieces on the way down, hitting the floor hard and jarring his back. But he didn't let it phase him for long. Daryl and Dylan threw punches. Each one was matched in strength, though one of Dylan's arms was pretty much useless, weak from his previous injury. Daryl gave him a solid punch in the gut, pushing him off and getting to his feet, backing up a step to get his bearings. Dylan wiped at his jaw, spitting blood on the floor before standing.

"Not bad, hillbilly." Dylan said, rolling his shoulders. The two began to circle each other like wolves. "But I'm not so easy to kill." Daryl smirked lightly.

"Good. I'd hate for this to end fast." He said, just before they clashed again. Daryl elbowed the other man in the face, only to have Dylan come back and grab Daryl's shoulders, kneeing him right in his freshly injured thigh. Daryl cried out lightly, his leg buckling beneath him, forcing him down on one knee. He took the opportunity to sucker punch Dylan right in the groin, the bearded man going down almost instantly. Daryl scrambled for the spilled contents of the table, then. He grabbed the first thing his hands found, which, to his surprise, was Lena's machete. The one that had gone missing, the one he'd made the sheath for. The bastard had it all along.

He spun around with it, attempting to get to his feet only to have Dylan appear and smash a piece of wood from the chair upside Daryl's head. He fell sideways, stars flashing in his vision, blood pooling over his eye. It took him a moment to get the room to stop spinning, only to see Dylan moving away, that sharply pointed piece of wood in his hand as he moved... straight for Lena.

* * *

Lena was watching the whole fight like an unwilling spectator. Her body was starting to react more to what she wanted it to do, but she could also feel pain she hadn't felt before. Her whole abdomen hurt, and she was beginning to feel a wet and warm heat between her legs. And not the good kind, either.

Daryl was an opportunistic fighter, using all he was and no rules to beat at Dylan. But Dylan was all bastard and no patience, giving Daryl as many licks as he gave. When Dylan picked up the piece of wood from the chair and swung at Daryl with it, Lena tried to call out, tried to warn him. But he was down before she ever got his name out. And then Dylan was looking at her.

"I guess plans have changed again." He breathed out, spitting blood on to the floor again, limping slightly toward her. "I think I'm done for today. What about you?" He asked, just as he raised the wood, the pointed end out like a stake, and he began to thrust it toward her, straight at her head...

Only to stop suddenly, his eyes going wide, the business end of a blade suddenly protruding from his chest. Everything went silent, blood began to bubble out from between his lips. Then the blade was gone, pulled out with a slick sound. Dylan blinked at her, turning slowly like his body wasn't quite catching up with the fact that Daryl had just impaled him with Lena's machete. "Fuck you." Daryl said so coldly, Lena would have smiled if she still wasn't in a soft state of panic.

Then Dylan fell over, landing on his back with his eyes wide open. No breath escaped his lips. No blood pulsed through his evil veins. He was dead. And the silence turned into a relieved and choked out sob from her lips. Daryl moved quickly behind her, limping badly, blood streaming down the side of his head. "Hang on, I got ya." He said, trying to be gentle as he untied her, then he went before her, crouching painfully, untying her legs. She had to shake out her hands, her fingers tingly, her wrists raw, though not nearly as badly as Daryl's were. He seemed to ignore all his injuries, pulling her into him as soon as the last rope was dropped to the floor. And she just hugged him, sobbing, clinging like he was the only life line left in the world.

"I got you, girly. I got you." He muttered into her hair, then gently pulled away, his eyes moving to her stomach. There were singe marks on her shirt, but that wasn't what was drawing his attention. His eyes dropped lower, toward her groin, between her legs. "Oh god..." he whispered. Lena looked down to see what both of them had feared. She was bleeding, a lot.

"Daryl?" She asked, her hands gripping him, her body starting to tremble. He didn't say anything, just wordlessly helped her stand, tucking her machete into his belt, leading her up the stairs. Once out of the dilapidated house, he kept his arm around her back, his hand gripping her waist. And her arm was draped over his shoulders. They were met with woods. Probably the same ones they'd attempted to hunt in. Neither of them said what they were thinking. All that blood... had she lost the baby?

Once they'd walked for a few minutes, Daryl stopped them. He was limping so badly, Lena almost wanted to tell him to let her walk on her own. But she could feel herself getting tired, weak, even. "I need to get my bearins." He said, a little out of breath, helping her lean against a tree. Once he was sure she wouldn't fall over, he took a few steps away, trying to get a clear look at the sky. And she just watched him silently, feeling hot and sweaty. Her stomach hurt like nothing she could remember. And the thought of the baby... that the baby might be... she closed her eyes, tears spilling out quietly. For a moment, she almost prayed for the quiet dark. To tumble into it where she would be safe and there wouldn't be pain and she wouldn't have to deal with the reality that they'd probably just lost their child, all because of her.

Then she felt his hand on her cheek, his fingers in her hair. She opened her eyes to see his deep blue ones staring back at her. The man she loved more than anyone and anything in the world was looking at her, and he still loved her. And it was all too much. He should have been angry. This was all her fault, wasn't it? She'd somehow managed to get a crazy man's attention and they had probably lost their baby because of it. But how Daryl looked at her right then? It was love. All love. And all for her. "I got ya, girly." He said softly to her, placing a quick kiss on her lips. It was a phrase that was beginning to mean so much more to her than he could ever know. "Let's go home."

When he snaked his arm around her again, and they began to make their slow way through the woods, she almost told him... she was home. She'd finally figured out what the girl in the deep quiet dark had meant. _'Home needs you. And you need home.'_

Her home was Daryl Dixon. And even if they lost this baby, he had her. He had all of her. For however long forever might be. And she knew, without a doubt, that she had him.


	29. "It's like they just disappeared."

Rick was standing by the riverbank, holding the crossbow in both hands, staring down at it. Daryl knew damn well to tell people where he went. He'd laid his plans out with Carol. Showed her on the map where he and Lena had planned to go. They should have been back before sunset. But by the time Rick, Carol and Glenn came looking for them the next morning, the truck was still parked, hidden in the brush. There was no sign that it had been touched or moved since being parked. Rick and the others had followed the map to where the river was, and walked its length till Rick nearly stepped right on top of Daryl's crossbow.

As far as omens went, it wasn't a good one.

"I don't see any walkers." Glenn said, looking around warily, a long knife in one hand. Carol had a rifle, stepping up beside Rick.

"I don't see any signs of a fight." She said tentatively. Rick glanced at her.

"We're not trackers. Not like Daryl." He slipped the crossbow over his shoulder, "Figures when we need Daryl, he's the one we're lookin for."

"And Lena." Carol added, stepping toward the water. Rick nodded softly.

"And Lena." He agreed. Glenn moved toward him.

"What do we do? Maybe... try calling out for them?" He asked, turning and looking up the incline. "Hey... look up there." He said, and began to climb. Rick followed, Carol turned and did the same. They came to the tree Daryl and Lena had been standing beside when they were downed by the darts. "That's Lena's bag." Glenn said, picking it up. Rick shook his head slightly.

"I don't see any blood. It's like..." He paused, hooking a thumb into the strap of Daryl's crossbow. Carol finished his sentence.

"It's like they just disappeared."

* * *

Daryl had to admit, time seemed a little strange. They must have been out cold a lot longer than he'd thought after getting hit with those tranquilizers. Because it still seemed like early morning. Which didn't make sense. So they must have been out all day and then all night. It hadn't been till the next morning that Dylan started in on them.

"Daryl, stop. Please, stop." Lena said to him. She was getting weaker. She wouldn't say it, but he could see it. She was getting more and more pale. And she kept trying not to bend over, like something was just squeezing the crap out of her stomach. He stopped, near a large oak. He could hear water somewhere nearby.

"We're almost near the river, girly. We gotta keep goin." He said to her, looking at her sideways. "I know yer hurtin. But it won't be long now. I promise." He said to her. Her forehead was beaded in sweat. She slowly nodded at him, blinking lightly. Goddamn, she was stronger than she knew. "Wait." He said, and shifted the machete to behind him, tucking it in his belt tightly. Then he just picked her up into his arms, carrying her like a child.

"Daryl, no." She said sternly, arms instinctively wrapping around his neck. He looked at her face. "Your leg. You can't." She said, but his smile silenced her.

"Don't tell me what to do, woman." He said, making her frown lightly. And he simply started walking. Which was so much harder than it should have been. His leg was messed up much worse than he thought. But he just kept pushing himself. He couldn't stop. Not now.

Eventually, he could feel Lena go limp. Her arms simply let loose around him. Neither one of them had realized just how weak she'd become. And before he had a chance to register it, she'd passed out. "No, no, no." He muttered, moving himself faster. He could hear the water, he was so close. It wasn't till he got to the bank that his leg gave out on him. His head hurt like a sonofabitch, too, which wasn't helping the situation.

And that's when he heard the voices. He froze, kneeling there in the brush, Lena in his arms. He strained to listen. A woman. A man... shit. "RICK!" He yelled out instantly, recognizing his best friend's voice, his brother. He couldn't help how desperate his voice sounded. "RICK!" He called again. Then he heard someone call his name, people running through the brush. Then the three of them appeared on the other side of the river, up the decline. As soon as they saw Daryl and Lena, there was no hesitation. They rushed down toward them, skidding down the hill, splashing into the river and wading across to them. The relief Daryl felt was palpable, a choked cry escaping his lips.

"Help me... with Lena." He said as soon as Rick got to his side. "I can't carry her anymore." He felt Rick's hands on his face, forcing Daryl to meet his eyes.

"What the hell happened, man?" He asked, Daryl just blinked and shook his head, looking back down at Lena.

"Rogers." He said softly. And everyone just got quiet momentarily. "He's dead." Was all Daryl added. Then wordlessly, Rick scooped Lena up in his arms. Glenn helped Daryl stand, and Carol took point. They were moving before Daryl had a chance to blink.

* * *

 _It was too quiet in the void. A bit like being under water, fluid moving past her ears. But she wasn't drowning, just floating._ 'She's waiting for you.' _The child said, from just in front of her. Lena could, for a moment, almost make out her form. She wanted to reach out, to touch her._

'She?' _Lena asked._ 'Who's she?' _She felt herself grasping at the darkness. But the girl suddenly spoke from behind her._

'She's almost home.' _The girl said. Then she felt herself spiral back into reality._

She felt... terrible.

Everything ached. But nothing nearly as much as her abdomen. Her eyes suddenly flew open, hands coming up, panic spreading to every inch as she grasped her stomach. "Hey, hey..." She heard a voice, looking to see Denise at her side, grasping one of her hands.

"The... the baby?" Lena managed to blurt out, her voice sounding dry and raspy like she hadn't drank anything in ages. She coughed a little, the mere motion making her ribs feel tight and angry. Denise, put a hand to her head, smoothing her fingers through her hair.

"Try not to move too much. That taser really did a number on your stomach. Your muscles are pretty bruised and you've got a few burns." She said softly, "Not to mention your shoulder. It's going to be some time before you'll be able to use your arm fully." Denise couldn't meet her gaze, and Lena reached out, grabbing Denise's arm.

"The baby..." she said firmly, forcing Denise to meet her eyes. Denise swallowed, then sighed softly.

"Your body... went into shock. The multiple electric shocks in one area caused a massive bleed inside. I had to... I went in, and cauterized the bleed. But Lena... you had a miscarriage." Denise's brows furrowed softly, and her voice cracked a little. "I'm so sorry, Lena."

Lena just stared at her, then blinked. And her face crumpled. And all she could do was cry. It hurt to cry. Hurt her stomach. Hurt her shoulder. And it hurt in ways she couldn't explain. Like there was a hollow deep inside her and it was filled with nothing but rage and grief. She felt Denise's hands on her, holding her awkwardly, trying to soothe her. But there were just some pains that no amount of words could heal. She needed Daryl, she needed him to hold her, to tell her he had her, that he still loved her. She opened her eyes, choking out a sob, her breath shuddering.

"Daryl, where's Daryl?!" She demanded. And Denise smiled a little.

"He's in the other room. He passed out on the way here. I stitched his head up, had to go back in his leg and repair a broken vessel inside the old wound. But he's fine, Lena. He's gonna be just fine. You both are. I promise." Denise said. But Lena just started crying again. They'd be fine physically. Thanks to Denise. Thanks to the group. But what about her and Daryl? How could he forgive her for this? How could she forgive herself?

"I'm so sorry, so sorry..." She began to mutter through her tears, her hands flattening over her face. All Denise could do was stand there, running her fingers through Lena's hair, a few tears of her own falling down from behind her glasses.


	30. 'People are not rain or snow or Autumn leaves. They don't look beautiful when they fall.'

Autumn had arrived.

The trees were shedding their leaves at a record pace, like they were trying to keep up with the death around them. He'd always liked the fall, despite the chill and the wetness everywhere. It made him feel centered, somehow. It was the only time of year he felt at his best. But this time... well, the crisp air didn't seem to have the affect it'd had before. He was sitting on the porch, leg stretched out, one crutch at his side, leaning his shoulder against the railing.

It was taking longer for his leg to heal this time around. Apparently the whack with the hammer had done damage to the old scar tissue, busted a vessel or somethin. Denise managed to patch it up well enough, but he was finding it more difficult to bounce back from it. He couldn't help but wonder if part of that was how he was feeling, and not just physically.

Losing the baby was worse than any pain he had ever felt, hands down. He'd lost people before, people he cared about, even loved. They all had. But this was so different. It was strange to think about how he hadn't even been sure they should have had it in the first place. But then, with Lena, the idea of being a dad began to grow on him. He would spend time thinking about all the things he'd do differently, the things he'd do right. He'd make sure no kid of his would grow up like his old man had made him grow up. But then that reality was swept out from underneath him. And he still felt like he couldn't quite catch his breath.

He blamed himself. How could he not? If he'd gotten loose faster, killed Dylan sooner, Lena never would have been hurt. Hell, if he'd been more attentive in the first place instead of worrying about finding a stupid ass deer for dinner, their baby would still be a reality.

He stared down at his wrists, pink ragged scars around each one where the ropes had been. Lena had similar scars now. Not as bad. But still a reminder neither one of them wanted. _'People are not rain or snow or Autumn leaves. They don't look beautiful when they fall.'_ Hershel had said once. Daryl hadn't really understood why, but those words had stayed with him. Now, sitting there in the crisp fall air, he really understood what it meant.

Lena was still healing. She had as much of a hard time getting around as he did. Once Denise was sure the chance at infection had passed, she'd let Lena come back to the house. But her shoulder was still pretty bad off. And every now and then her stomach gave her issues. She had healing scars from the taser all over her belly. She hated them. Wouldn't even look at herself in the mirror unless they were covered. And she was so quiet. Sometimes, she wouldn't even talk to him. Wouldn't look at him. She hid herself away in the bedroom, or would take watch alone in the tower at random intervals. Neither one of them had really stopped to address the fact that they were both grieving about the same thing. And he couldn't help but wonder if it was because she blamed him as much as he blamed himself.

He rubbed his face momentarily, letting his hands fall when he heard footsteps. It was a small surprise to see Eugene standing there. The dude was strange, but a good guy. He was smart enough, but just didn't seem to grasp the idea of having a lucid personality. Daryl let his hands hang down between his legs and just stared at the other man quietly. Finally, Eugene stepped toward him, stopping a few feet from the porch steps.

"When I was a kid, my sister and I had a dog. Small one. Rat terrier." He began, Daryl just kept staring. _Great, it's story time,_ he thought to himself. "One day, I let the dog out into the yard to do his business. When I went to check on him about twenty minutes later, he was gone. The gate to the street was open. And he'd run for it. I went looking for him, only to find that he'd been hit by a vehicle. Dead as a door nail." He shifted on his feet a little. "Blamed myself, figured it was my fault because I hadn't checked to see if the gate was closed. When my sister came home and I told her what had happened, she started crying. But then she hugged me. You see, she blamed herself, too. She'd left the gate open in her hurry to get to her friend's house. It took a few minutes for us to admit our blame to each other. But once we did, we buried the dog. And we were able to move on, forgiving each other."

Daryl couldn't help but feel a little numb and speechless at Eugene's words. The man was strange as hell. But... shit if he wasn't making sense. Eugene, nodded at Daryl, a firm motion.

"I don't claim to say that losing a dog is the same as what you and Lena are going through right this moment. But maybe you're both blaming yourselves. And you shouldn't be. Things happen. Terrible, awful things. Neither one of you is to blame." He seemed to be satisfied with what he was saying and simply turned around, starting to walk away, leaving Daryl a little stunned.

"Hey, Eugene." He called out. The other man stopped and turned. "Thanks." Daryl said gently. Eugene just nodded and went on his way. Daryl waited till he disappeared out of sight before standing, grabbing the crutch to help himself walk. And then he headed down the steps, making his gimpy slow ass way down the street toward the gate and watch tower. As he went, his heart was in his throat. Was it possible she blamed herself? Like he blamed himself? Was that the reason why she couldn't talk to him? Either way, he'd find out. Neither one of them would leave that tower till it was settled. He could only hope that by the time they'd said all they needed to say, they hadn't lost each other as well as the baby.


	31. "I want us back, Daryl."

She told herself it should have been easy. That she should just jump back into things and move on. But every glance at her wrists reminded her. Every time she touched her stomach. Every time her shoulder hurt. Every time she saw Daryl.

"Why are you doing this to yourself?" _Maggie had asked her one night on the wall._ "Lena, I can't even begin to understand what you're feeling. But driving yourself into the ground and pushing everyone away isn't going to erase it." _Lena had wanted to get angry. But Maggie took her hand._ "When I lost my Dad, and Beth... the pain was just..." _she blinked, looking down over the wall._ "I felt like I'd died with them. Like why the hell was the world going on without them? And then I decided I'd just push on. Pretend like it didn't hurt anymore. But Glenn and even Daryl helped me realize that wouldn't fix anything." _She met Lena's gaze, squeezing her hand lightly._ "It's gonna hurt, Lena. No matter what you do. It hurts, until it doesn't. But that doesn't mean you have to hurt alone."

Her ears were just about ringing with everything people had to say. They were all being so kind, understanding, gentle. And all she wanted was for someone to yell at her, to tell her she was right about hating herself. She let out a deep breath, rolling her shoulder a little. It was a good thing it wasn't her shooting arm or else Rick never would have let her take the shifts in the tower.

"Still sore?" Carol asked beside her. Lena didn't look at her, just nodded. Carol was sitting on the edge where the ladder was, just looking out over the town. She'd taken it upon herself to keep Lena company today. Not that she'd wanted it, or even needed it. But she didn't protest. "How's your stomach?" Carol asked, and Lena did look at her then, blinking a little.

"It's a stomach." She replied flatly, sounding a little more cold than she'd intended. But Carol didn't even flinch. She just smiled a little, looking out again.

"You ever wonder why you and Daryl are so good together?" She asked, then turned a little, looking up at Lena with a softness to her expression. "It's because you understand each other. And you both view yourselves the same way. You're incapable of seeing yourself the way he sees you, and vice versa." Lena furrowed her brows at Carol, shifting the rifle in her hands a bit.

"Daryl knows how I feel about him." Lena replied softly, looking away. She could almost feel Carol smiling at her.

"Yeah, but like all good men, he might need a little reminding. And like all good women," She said, reaching out and touching Lena's leg, "So do you." Lena couldn't respond to that. All the good these people saw in her was lost on her these days. The two women stayed quiet for the next several minutes while Lena kept watch. And then Carol was standing.

"Don't you even think about it." She was calling down to someone inside the walls. Lena turned to see Daryl standing there with his crutch, looking up.

"Get outta the way, woman. I wanna talk to Lena." He called up, reaching for the ladder. Carol put her hands on her hips.

"There is no way in hell I'm letting you climb the ladder with that leg. Just wait a minute, you stubborn jackass." Carol replied, shaking her head and turning toward Lena. She reached out and took the rifle from her, then motioned with her head at the ladder.

"Go talk to your man." Carol said gently. Lena swallowed, a sudden nervousness filling the gaping chasm of her emotions. Carol touched her shoulder lightly. "It's gonna be alright. I promise. Now get going."

Lena barely looked at Daryl as she turned herself around and stepped down on to the ladder. Going down with one bad shoulder was a lot easier than going up, that was for sure. Once at the bottom, she took in a deep breath and let it out, turning to see him standing there, leaning heavily on his one crutch, staring at her with those damn amazing blue eyes. "What's up?" She asked softly, slipping her hands into her pockets. He narrowed his gaze on her.

"We need to talk, girly." He said to her, his rough voice reaching her ears. "But not here." He glanced up the length of the ladder. "Alone." He added, then turned on his feet, looking to be sure she'd follow. They walked side by side in the cold, and slowly because she didn't want to irritate his leg more than he probably already had trekking it all the way down there. It wasn't till they were near the infirmary that he spoke up again. "We need to deal with this, Lena. We can't avoid it anymore. It's killin us." His voice was so quiet. It made her want to reach out and touch him, but she forced her hands to stay in her pockets. "We lost our baby." He kept talking. God, just hearing him say the words out loud was like being stabbed in the chest. She had to keep her eyes away from him. "But we didn't lose each other." He stopped then, reaching out and grabbing her arm with his free hand. "Look at me."

She had to. She couldn't say no to him, not now. Not the way he sounded. Like he was in so much pain, but keeping it locked down for her sake. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry I let that asshole hurt you. I'm sorry I wasn't fast enough. Our baby died because I..." he grit his teeth, then let go of her arm, running a hand hastily through his already disheveled hair. "And I've been keepin my distance cause I been blamin myself, and I thought maybe you blamed me, too." She felt her mouth open slightly, a breath escaping. He blamed himself. He thought she blamed him. _Way to go, Lena._

"No, Daryl." She shook her head, this time reaching out and grabbing hold of his arm. "I don't blame you at all! I never did!" She felt a tear escape her eye, and she shook her head, pressing her lips together in an effort to not cry out loud. She stepped closer to him, and took his face in both of her hands. "If I hadn't caught his attention, if I hadn't insisted on going hunting with you... Daryl, I lost our baby. I did this. Not you." She said with such urgency, all the pain just fled into her voice. And she could see her pain mirrored in his eyes, on his face. He dropped his crutch then, gripping her waist and pulling her closer.

"You didn't do nothin wrong, you hear me?" He said at her almost angrily. "This wasn't yer fault. None of it. Our baby..." he choked those words out, tears of his own escaping. "God, Lena... look at us..." He pressed his forehead to hers, her hands falling to his shoulders. "We both been blamin ourselves for somethin we didn't do. I'm sorry I pushed you away. It was stupid." She sobbed once softly, then just curled her hands into his vest.

"I did the same thing to you." She let out a shaken breath. "I want us back, Daryl." She whispered. And he seemed to agree, because then he kissed her like he was a drowning man and she was water. And she definitely returned the favor. For the first time since she'd come-to with Denise standing over her, telling her their baby was dead, she felt like some of the broken pieces in her spirit were being put back together. She was so stupid to think she could deal with all this on her own. She needed Daryl like she needed air. And she was so ashamed that she'd left him to deal with his pain alone, too. After all, it was a pain they shared. A pain they drowned in that kiss.

They still had a lot of healing to do. But they were going to do it together now. It was going to take time. But there, in his arms, feeling all the love he had for her, she had no doubt they'd find a way to survive it.

The world was full of monsters. Both real, and imagined. Walkers and humans. But none of them could take away what they were to each other. Even if the sky was falling down around them, as long as they had each other, she knew they would survive.


	32. "That route takes us right through Wrecker territory."

Winter came quickly, which was both good and bad. Good because it slowed the walkers down considerably. Bad because food was running short. Runs hadn't been nearly as fruitful, and several of their best scavengers were down with a flu that was both terrible and fast spreading, having killed two of the residents already. More than half the town was down with it at one point. And besides, with snow piling up on the roads, there was only so far out any of them could go. Rationing was the best they could do. They had enough canned food to get them through a few months at least. Enough stored meat to drag out their resources somewhat longer. But they all knew the threat of hunger was very real.

"If we can get as far out as Lawson, we can check that psych hospital on the far end near the Littleton border, and see if that distribution center's been ransacked yet. I can rig a plow on that garbage truck we cleaned out." Abraham said, dragging his finger along the map, his voice still a little rough. The flu had hit him hard, but he was well on his way to being better. "It's going to take some time, especially with the latest snow fall we had. But it's far enough out there, we may find supplies no one's picked over."

Rick, Glenn, Maggie, Abraham, Daryl, Lena, Carl, Gabriel, Carol, Michonne, Aaron, Denise, Sasha, Rosita, Tara and Eugene were all sitting in the dining room of the meeting house, a home designated for stuff like this because of how big it was. The large dining room had a huge table in it, capable of seating about twenty people at once. They were all settled into the wooden, leather studded chairs.

"That route takes us right through Wrecker territory." Rick said, his jaw clenching lightly. Wreckers were what they called a group they'd run into in the fall, due to their giant fleet of construction vehicles. They were a hearty group of survivors, much like themselves. But they weren't interested in alliances or trade, and they didn't like trespassers one bit. The only thing they had going for them was the fact they weren't mindless killers. They were a decent sort, for the most part. There leader, a woman the Wreckers called Sun, was smart enough to know that a war wasn't going to do anyone any good. So they each kept to themselves. And the truce they'd set up meant no wandering into each other's territories without consent. "Not sure how accommodating they'd be with us plowing our way through their town. We'd have to go right through their gates to get to Sailor's Bridge."

Daryl was sitting to Rick's right, listening with one foot crossed over the opposite knee, hands tucked into their opposite sides, arms crossed. They'd been discussing the food shortage for a little over an hour before they decided they'd have no choice but to go scavenging. It wasn't an ideal thought. But with Maggie so close to giving birth, which everyone -including Lena and Daryl- was excited about, and not just food running short but medical supplies as well, there really was no other choice.

"What if we go around and hit Springs Falls first." Sasha said, taking the map from Abraham. Following the route with her finger. "We could avoid the Wreckers all together, go completely around the bay." Glenn spoke up next.

"That would add a whole week or more to the trip. We're probably already looking at two weeks there and two weeks back as it is. And I'm not sure we have that kind of fuel to spare. We're going to be cutting it close." He had one hand on Maggie's knee, his other hand relaxed on the table.

"We should talk to Sun." Lena said from beside Daryl. She was standing behind him, her hands on his shoulders, leaning slightly into him, his head resting against her stomach. "She may just be willing to let us through. Sun might be a bit paranoid, but she's not unreasonable." Maggie shifted a little in her seat, looking from Lena to Rick.

"She's right. We should just plan to head for the Wreckers. Send someone in to talk to Sun. It's better to try than to run out of gas attempting to go around." Maggie said. Rick was silently thoughtful, sliding the map toward him.

"If we do this, we need to be prepared for everything. Every possible contingency we can come up with. A fall back plan." He looked around at everyone. "It'll be me, Daryl, Lena, Glenn, Abraham, Michonne and Sasha." He sat up a bit straighter."We'll take the garbage truck and the two SUV's. We'll burn a bit more fuel, but we're guaranteed to get through the snow in a caravan like that." He pushed his chair back a little. "Carol, Maggie, Rosita, Denise, it's going to be up to you to keep things runnin smoothly here, keep food rations to an absolute minimum. Carl, you're going to be in charge of the wall and tower, make sure it's covered 24/7. If people have to pull double duty, then so be it. Gabriel, I want you helping Denise at the clinic. We still have people down with that flu and she's going to need the extra hands. Eugene, keep trying to fix that larger generator. If you can get it runnin, we can run heat longer during the day. Aaron, I'm going to need you to keep track of the fuel and propane. You're going to have to use good judgment on how much everyone gets to use while we're gone." He stood up then, pushing the chair a little out of his way.

"We'll take the week to prep. We don't leave till we know we have everything mapped out, settled and ready to go." He motioned idly to everyone. "Let's get started." And just like that everyone was standing up, moving about, heading on their way. "Daryl, borrow you for a minute?" Lena just squeezed Daryl's shoulders and told him she'd meet him back at the house.

"What's up?" He asked, getting out of his seat and moving to Rick's side near the large bay window that peered out into the main road opposite the armory.

"Any news on our intruder?" He asked, hands on his hips. Daryl just shook his head.

"Naw, man. Other than the crap he left in that basement, we still don't have nothin. There were absolutely no trails to follow. And no one's seen or heard a thing since. Really pisses me off." Daryl replied, brows softly furrowed. Rick smirked slightly.

"Me, too. Just doesn't make any sense. Why stick walkers on us, hide away, and then leave?"

"I'll be sure to ask him when I find his smarmy ass." Daryl replied, then scratched his bicep idly. "What if we ask Sun when we see her? Maybe she's had a similar run in." Rick nodded.

"That might be a good idea. We'll have to see what kind of mood she's in when we get there."

Daryl smiled a little at that. "She did say she was gonna knee you in the balls next time she saw you." He reached out and nudged Rick as he stepped past. Rick just laughed lightly, grabbing his coat off the back of his chair and following.

"Yeah, well... to be fair, I did total her truck and accidentally dump a load of vegetables into a pond, so..." He said, slipping his jacket on and zipping it shut. Daryl opened the door, stepping out into the cold day.

"Accidentally, my ass. You were just pissed she'd found it first." Daryl said, then smacked Rick on the shoulder good-naturedly. "See ya in the mornin." And he hopped off the deck, heading down the snow riddled street towards the house he shared with Lena.

Things had been good, better than good, since they reconciled. It was a little rocky at first. There was so much clearing of the air they'd had to do, and a lot of healing that wasn't just physical. It wasn't a heartbreak either one of them knew the first thing about how to deal with. But they'd managed, bit by bit, day by day. It still hurt, like fucking hell. But they weren't afraid to talk to each other about it, or anything else for that matter. And that was the most important part.

Lena had been having more blackouts than normal since the event with Rogers. But they were finally beginning to taper off. The more she healed, the more she let him help her, the better she got inwardly. Knowing she was willing to rely on him that way, to carry her through this, meant the world to him.

They'd also only recently begun to be completely physical with each other again. His leg had a bitch of a time healing this time round. And Denise wanted them to hold off as long as possible till she was sure all of Lena's insides had recovered. Getting permission to have sex from a third party was a little strange. But when Denise finally said they could, well... it was like they had to make up for lost time. They pretty much didn't leave the bed for that entire day. And it was a good day.

Lena was still a little touchy about the now pink, round scorch scars on her stomach. It was hard for her to look at them. But he was doing everything he could to make her see that they didn't change how he viewed her. She was still damn beautiful and ridiculously sexy as hell in his eyes. And he still loved her. He'd love her if she was covered head to toe in scars. That's just what she meant to him.

Once back at the house, he found Lena in the kitchen, making a list of the things they'd need to bring with them. Despite how smart, on point and fast thinking she was, she still made lists. Mostly because sometimes, her brain just seemed to forget the little things. Things that weren't, in that moment, important would just leave her head. She'd been like that since he'd met her. But she worked through it by making the lists so even if she forgot later, it was right there in writing. He stomped his boots out on the rug before stepping onto the tile, his chilled hands finding the back of her neck and shoulders, and began to rub idly.

"Don't forget about that instant coffee crap you drink." He said, looking down at her writing. He could almost feel her smirk.

"It only looks like crap. Tastes like on-the-go heaven." She said, reaching up with one hand without looking to squeeze his hand lightly. He bent over a little, crossing an arm above her chest and putting his other hand down on the table, his chin on her shoulder.

"How you feelin about this run?" He asked her, his voice soft in her ear. She hadn't really gone out since they'd been rescued. Like she was scared just stepping out beyond the gates meant something bad would happen to them. Like she was bad luck. She paused her writing and set the pen down on the flowery lined magnetic pad of paper she'd pulled off the fridge. He could feel a sigh run through her whole body.

"I think I'm ready. I mean..." she shrugged a little, making his head move slightly. "I don't think I could go without you. And I won't be. So I think... I think I'll be okay."

He straightened up, loosening his hold on her and grabbing the back of her chair, pulling it out with her in it, turning it a little so he could crouch in front of her. He stared up into the gorgeous brown eyes he loved, seeing the uncertainty there, and he reached a hand up, caressing her soft cheek. "We got this, girly." He said to her. And instantly she smiled, her eyes filling with a look of adoration and trust she only had for him. Then she leaned toward him and kissed him, softly but thoroughly. When the kiss finally broke, she whispered to him.

"Make love to me." She said, a soft lit fire in her eyes that always got his heart running a marathon before he could catch up. They both stood and he pulled her into him.

"Yes, ma'am." He said, smiling lightly before kissing her again. He could feel the last of any tension flee from her body as he picked her up, her legs wrapping around his waist, his hands beneath her ass, her arms wrapped around his neck as he carried her up the stairs to their room...


	33. "You keep this up, we might just break it."

One of the best things about having sex with Daryl Dixon was the fact that he was just as take charge as she was. Neither one of them was afraid to say what they wanted, and neither one of them was too shy to take the initiative, either. They complimented each other so well that it was never boring, and always satisfying. So much so that sometimes, they could barely function afterward. Another good thing was that they both knew it didn't have to be hot and heavy all the time. They enjoyed each other just as much when it was tender as they did when they just wanted to be a bit rough.

This time, it was all tender. He took his time with her, making it all about her first. And the way he made her feel? There just weren't words. Before Daryl, she hadn't known being physical with someone could be so exhilarating, so satisfying. His touches sent tingles through her skin, a good kind of electricity that just set her heart to racing. His mouth was like an addiction. The way he tasted her, the way he explored her like he was searching for treasure and finding it everywhere he went. He treated every inch of her like something to be worshiped, and god it made her heart ache in the best ways.

It also aroused her like nothing else could. He made her so needy, so urgently wet that she didn't think she could survive it when he teased her. He let his mouth find her breasts, his hands kneading her flesh as his lips and teeth worked gently on her already very erect nipples. The feel of his skin, his hard dick against her only helped to make the sensations so much more intoxicating, forcing her to squirm beneath him and making small sounds she couldn't control.

If heaven could be described, the words would be 'Daryl Dixon'.

He worked his way lower, knowing all the parts of her body that made her writhe with pleasure. He just kept going, no matter how she pleaded or whimpered, his hands spreading her legs for him to see what he was aiming for. And when his mouth found her clitoris, working through the folds of her vagina, there was just no way she could form words anymore, let alone coherent thought. Tongue, teeth, lips, all worked his magic down there, her body arching as she moaned continuously, hands balling the blankets in her fists, trying terribly hard not to squeeze him with her thighs. And after a short while, she felt it, a pressure so intense, painful and wonderful at the same time, building and building until she cried out his name and came, her body pulsing with each tug of her orgasm. It wasn't till she went nearly completely limp on the bed that he lifted his head, smiling, moving his way back up her body with yet more touches of his hands, his mouth.

"God..." she panted softly, eyes closed in ecstasy, "Daryl." She whispered his name like it was a prayer and she was desperate for every god to hear her.

"I got ya, girly." He whispered to her, having finally made his way back to her mouth. And he kissed her, passionately, deeply, the same exact moment he slid inside her tight wetness. And oh, did she squeeze at the feel of that. Having him within her was a sensation all its own, like everything else he did to her. She couldn't imagine anyone in the world feeling better than he did. And the way he worked himself in and out of her, rolling his hips, holding her hands up above her head against the bed, driving himself in and out in a nearly frustratingly too slow rhythm, it left her crying out for more. He watched her, jaws clenching, eyes on fire for her, muscles in his body working. And she watched him, eyes following down the length of his body to where he joined with her.

Eventually, they worked together, his hands to either side of her head, hers gripping his strong arms for dear life, until she saw his face tighten, his eyes close, his head go back as he gasped out, a gruff and breathy sound that just sent tingles all over her as he came inside her, pushing himself to the limit till there was nothing left to give. And finally he lowered himself against her, gently relaxing to her form.

They breathed together, slower and slower, their sweat mingling between them, her legs wrapped around him, her hands holding to his back. And she closed her eyes, her face nuzzled into his hair and forehead. He had a hand curled into her hair, his other down at her side, fingers touching her hip in slow circles. "Couple minutes and we are doin that again." He mumbled, making her chuckle at that.

"You keep this up, we might just break it." She said, he smiled, his lips brushing against her throat.

"Would be totally worth it." He said, then gently pulled out of her, making sure the condom came with him. Then he tossed it into the small trash can near the bed before turning back to her. He laid on his back with a satisfied sigh, one hand behind his head. His other arm curled around her as she moved into him, draping one leg over both of his, one hand tracing little designs on his strong chest. She closed her eyes when his hand rested on her hip, letting out a sigh of her own. "Love you." He said, the sound of a good kind of tiredness creeping into his voice. She pressed a soft kiss to his chest, pushing herself closer to him.

"I love you, too." She replied. And they laid like that till the sun went down, Lena thinking they'd just eventually fall asleep. She could have slept like that with him forever. Just curled into his body and surrounded by his strength and safety and love. This was heaven to her. And no one could convince her otherwise. As the room grew darker, though, she felt Daryl shift in her arms, and she lifted her head to meet his gaze. Her slipped his hand into her hair, his thumb smoothing down the side of her face, and he kissed her again. She didn't need words to know that he'd meant what he said about doing it again. It made her smile against his mouth.

Night came with the throws of a passion neither one of them could deny or shy away from, her thoughts only with the man she loved, far from the outside world and all the dangers it posed. She was lost in him. And he was lost in her. And she was pretty sure that if they were lost forever, that would be perfectly alright with them both...


	34. "I remember that bein a good thing."

The week passed quickly. Prepping was meticulous and thorough. The garbage truck had been completely cleaned out a few months back. Abraham and his crew had gutted the compress box completely, yanking out the hydraulics and the press. They left the rear hatch in tact, and removed the sewage box. Then they'd cut holes in the box itself, making perfect windows for rifle barrels to fit through. They'd also made ventilation shafts on the top, and set up an emergency hatch at the bottom. After reinforcing the inner walls with steel, the damn thing was pretty much bullet proof, weather proof, walker proof and idiot proof. The kicker was it had all been Eugene's idea. He'd figured it all out, made it all work. As weird as Daryl found the guy, Eugene did have his moments.

Abraham had spent the week rigging a plow to the front. And not some rickety ass plow for driveways, either. But a massive thing used for highway cleanup. Not only could they make a hell of a path on the roads, but they could probably push just about any vehicle they came across right out of the way. Not to mention mow down any walkers that muddled by. They packed supplies for the road in the rear of both SUV's, as well as in the garbage truck itself. They carried extra ammo, canned food, bottled water, pots to boil more, supplies to make fires, tents, sleeping bags. Name it and they probably had it. Aaron had gone through the lists twice, checking everything over again to be sure. And once the group had gone over their plans again, and said their weary goodbyes, they were gone before any of them could change their minds.

Abraham and Sasha took the garbage truck, leading the way. Michonne, Glenn and Rick took the rear SUV. And Daryl and Lena were in the middle. _"We'll drive straight on to the Wreckers. It'll take two days, as long as the weather stays clear."_ Rick said over the radio. Lena raised hers, pressing the button from her seat beside Daryl. "What, no vacation time? Slave driver." She commented lightly. Rick called back, humor in his voice, _"Sorry, all the hotels were booked."_ Daryl smirked lightly, one hand on the wheel, one hand reaching over and massaging the back of Lena's neck idly. She put the radio down into the side of the door, settling a bit more in her seat. They talked randomly as they went, filling the drive with their thoughts. And sometimes they were just quiet, as happy to be near each other in silence as they were when they were talking. But after awhile, Daryl watched her a little sideways.

She was braiding some rope, reinforcing it, making it stronger, coiling it into a circle at her feet as she went, her fingers working expertly. It was mostly out of the need for something to do than anything else. Plus, it couldn't hurt to have on hand. Just in case. "Hey, do me a favor." He said then, breaking the silence. She glanced over at him, face calm. "There's a box in the glove compartment. Grab it." He said, watching the ass end of the garbage truck in front of him. She raised a brow, but put the rope down on the floor, pressing the button on the glove box. The door popped open, falling down. And she reached inside, pulling out a flat ammo box that probably felt empty cause it was so light. "Open it up." He said, glancing to her, gauging her reaction. She smirked at him, brow still raised slightly.

"What're you up to?" She asked before glancing down at the box in her hands and sliding it open. Then she just paused, both brows going up. There sat a silver chain bracelet. It wasn't anything fancy at all. But he'd polished it to a bright sheen and the chain itself looked like it'd have a hell of a time being broken.

"I been thinkin..." he spoke up then as she lifted it up with two fingers, the chain coming together. "You said yer not a fan of rings. And I know you like silver..." he let his eyes drift back to the road feeling a lump in his throat, but he swallowed it down. "Ain't like weddings are bein done anymore..."

"Daryl Dixon... are you asking me to be your wife?" She interrupted, sounding so surprised and yet, there was a high lilt of joy in her voice. She practically hugged the bracelet to herself when he looked at her.

"Unless you don't wanna. We never really talked about it. And it's not like we'll have a certificate or anythin." He met her gaze, and watched as a broad, beautiful smile spread on her lips, lighting up her whole face. Just seeing her look like that, so happy and so damn beautiful, shit... it was so worth the nervousness he'd been feeling.

"Damn right I want to." She was grinning at him, ear to ear. He couldn't help it, he had to smile a little, glancing back at the road, letting the SUV back up a bit from the garbage truck.

"So that's a yes." He stated, meeting her eyes again. She laughed, looking at the bracelet again before slipping it around her left wrist and clasping it in place.

"You're still incorrigible." She said warmly, reaching over and taking his hand.

"I remember that bein a good thing." He lifted her hand and placed a chaste kiss on her fingers before she pulled his hand into her lap, holding it in both of hers.

"Damn right it is." She grinned again, looking out at the snowy world around them. She laughed again, like she just couldn't contain her happiness. "We got this." She said, using words he'd used so many times with her. He nodded quietly, squeezing her hand a little.

"Damn right we do." He replied. He couldn't describe how he felt, even to himself. The woman he loved, the woman he'd been through hell over and over again with, wasn't just his girlfriend or whatever term people had used to describe them. She was his wife now. After all, there wouldn't be a ceremony, no paper to sign. The end of the world made that part convenient. It was just a verbal agreement for people these days. It had happened more than once. With Maggie and Glenn, with a few other couples in Alexandria. Why not them?

It was amazing, in a way, to think it had taken the end of the world and a chance encounter on a rainy back road to find the love of his life. He'd never seen himself as the commitment type before Lena. Hell, he'd never thought anyone could even love him. Not like that. He'd always been so broken and self-loathing, always so haunted by the way he'd grown up and the man he was sure his father and brother had turned him into. But Lena had proved him wrong pretty much from day one. Like everyone in his life now, she'd made him a better man. But unlike everyone else, she really saw him, all of him. And loved him anyway. She saw all that was dark and terrible in him, and didn't condemn him for it. She'd told him once, _'You can't go back to before. You were a different person then.'_ And damn if she wasn't right.

 _"Hold up, we got some cars in the road."_ Abraham said over the radio, the garbage truck slowing to a stop. _"Pull out the shovels, kids. We gotta move one of these by hand to push the others outta the way. It's snarled against a telephone pole."_ Daryl let go of her hand, slowing the SUV to a stop, Rick doing the same right behind them. He shut off the ignition, reaching up on the dash and grabbing his gloves. She was already slipping hers on.

"Ready for this, wife?" he asked her, grinning like an idiot. She chuckled.

"Ready when you are, husband." And they got out to meet the others at the front of the truck.


	35. "Can't break a sledgehammer, man."

There wouldn't be enough fire in the world to make her feel warm again. It took nearly an hour just to shovel the car out, even with all of them doing it. The vehicle was half pinned by a downed power pole, and they had to keep moving around the other cars in the road that had piled up in an accident probably around the time of the fall. Snow and ice had caked the crumpled hood and roof, so it took all of them to lift the large piece of wood off and roll it to the side.

Lena ended up with a hell of a splinter, about the size of a damn tooth pick, stabbing through her glove and into her hand during it all, "Son of a..." She gritted her teeth, yanking the damn thing out and shaking her hand.

"Bitch." Abraham finished for her with a wink. Then took her hand in his and pulled the glove off, a blossom of blood bruising beneath the skin as a drop rolled down her palm. "Here," He said, pulling a handkerchief out of a pocket and pressing it to her hand. That was when he noticed the bracelet that had slipped just beneath her rope burn scars. "Well lookie here." He grinned, "What's with the bling, Sledgehammer?" She couldn't help but blush a little. She shook her wrist a little, holding the cloth.

"My husband gave it to me." She said brightly, and watched Abraham practically explode with laughter.

"Well sonofabitch, indeed." He exclaimed, grabbing her and lifting her up off the snowy ground in a bear hug. Rick, Michonne, Glenn and Sasha all paused what they were doing, Daryl tossing a thick piece of ice to the side, watching with humor all over his face.

"Careful, man. Yer gonna break her." Daryl said lightly, smirking. Abraham put her down with a chuckle.

"Can't break a sledgehammer, man." Abraham winked at her.

"What's all this about?" Rick asked, trudging through the snow toward them, everyone else smiling, watching. He looked at Lena's wrist when she raised it to show him the bracelet.

"Looks like we got some newly weds. Hell of a big ring, though. I think Daryl's tryin to make the rest of us men look bad." Abraham said, clapping Daryl on the shoulder when he met Lena's side. And it was instant happiness all around. Everyone was hugging, congratulating, laughing, joking. Lena felt Daryl's arms close around her from behind, his face nuzzling into the side of hers, his lips near her ears.

"Yer perfect." He said, only loud enough for her to hear. Then he kissed her cheek. They all went back to work, still joking around, an air of humor and light-heartedness all around them. It didn't seem to matter anymore that it was freezing out or that the road ahead was unsure or that they still had to convince the Wreckers to let them through. All that mattered to everyone else was that their friends, members of their family, were happy. And all that mattered to Daryl and Lena was that they had this family, this whole group to count on. People they cared for, people they loved, cared and loved for them in return.

When they finally got the car unsnarled and off to the side, Abraham let out a hoot. "Let's blow this hoochie stand." He said, climbing up and opening the garage truck door. Sasha rolled her eyes at him.

"Hoochie stand? You're an idiot." She said, opening her own door. The rest of them laughed a little.

"Yeah, but I'm a damn fine idiot." The red-bearded man said before closing the door. Sasha shook her head, glancing at Rick.

"You guys hang back till we push these other cars outta the way. We'll beep when it's clear." She said, then disappeared into the cab, closing the door.

Daryl and Lena, Michonne, Rick and Glenn all trudged through the snow toward the SUV's. Michonne put a hand around Lena's waist as they went. "So happy for you." She said softly, smiling that bright white smile of hers. "You deserve this, both of you. You've come a long way." She squeezed Lena's hip gently. "You know you're family, right? To all of us, not just Daryl." Lena looked at her, both of them pausing, turning to face each other. "Never doubt it." Michonne said, pulling her in for a hug. Lena hugged her back, feeling a soft tension in her throat.

"Thank you." She said when they pulled back. "For everything." She glanced at Rick and Glenn when they got to them. "All of you. I don't think I've ever... that I ever said..." she had to stop, letting out a breath and shaking her head with a smile, wiping at a tear that wanted to escape. Rick just gripped her shoulder, Glenn smiling.

"Don't have to say it. We know." Rick leaned forward and kissed her cheek. Glenn squeezed her hand and Michonne winked at her before they went toward their SUV. "Alright folks, let's get warm." And they piled in to their vehicle, leaving her standing there by her door.

"Yer happy." She heard Daryl say, turning to see him standing on the other side of their SUV, his door open, watching her with that tender way of his. She nodded, beaming at him. "Good." He winked at her, then slid into his seat. She followed suit, feeling like her heart might just explode from joy.

* * *

It didn't take too long for the garbage truck to push the remaining cars out of the way, wide enough to make a path for the SUV's to follow. And they were back on the road again, with only about an hour of daylight left to spare. Their odd road caravan was making decent time, all things considered. They didn't stop again till somewhere near midnight, to refuel and switch drivers.

She was leaning against the hood of the SUV, gazing around, steam spiraling from her mouth in the cold air, her hands shoved into the pockets of her jacket. Daryl was pouring gas into the tank from a gas can. Rick was doing the same to his SUV. Everything was calm, quiet. There was pretty much no noise except for the sounds the group was making. But that didn't mean there wasn't something out there. Snow didn't mean no walkers. It just meant slower walkers, and not as many. And snow certainly didn't mean no people. After all, they were out in that mess.

That's when she noticed something in the distance, a twinkling beyond the snowed over, abandoned playground they'd stopped beside, coming from what looked like a school. A light that seemed... out of place. "Rick." She called lightly, unhooking the rifle from her back and taking a step toward a buried fire hydrant. "Look." She said, motioning to the light she saw. Rick paused, turning around.

"Glenn, take the can." He ordered, and Glenn took it quickly. Daryl was turning, too, lowering his can to the ground. They both came to her side, staring out into the darkness. And then both she and Rick spoke at the same time.

"That's Morse code."

They glanced at each other, Daryl looking at them. "It's creepy when you two do that." Daryl said quietly, looking back out at the light. "What's it sayin?"

Lena watched the light again, the series of flashes in dots and dashes. Her brows furrowing. "Help." Was all she said, and a quiet fell over them. She could practically hear the wheels turning in Rick's head. Do they venture into a snow ridden quiet and dangerous world to check out a flashing light, or do they keep going, leaving whomever it is to fend for themselves?

"It could be a trick." They heard Abraham say as he came up to them, Sasha right behind them. After Glenn deposited the last of the gas, both he and Michonne made their way over. "Not sure we should risk it." He said, knowing what Rick was considering. Hell, they all knew.

They were all quiet again, their breath steaming around them, a tension filling the areas between. "If someone really needs help, we have to know." Lena heard herself say, looking directly at Rick. He met her dark gaze, clenching his jaw softly. "Daryl could have left me on that road. He didn't. You all proved to me that not all survivors are monsters." She continued. She heard Daryl shift beside her, Rick let his gaze move to him, then back to Lena.

"Glenn, Michonne, Abraham and Sasha, stay with the vehicles. Shut off the lights, turn off the engines. Keep an eye out. Abraham... I know you been dying to use your night vision goggles. Daryl, Lena and I will head out. If we're not back in one hour, you move on. We still have a job to do."

"Hell no. We're not leaving without you. Any of you." Michonne said sternly. Rick just nodded at her.

"Hopefully it won't come to that." He said, then moved toward his SUV, the matter settled. They all geared up, grabbing their weapons. And then they were off, trudging through the dark and snow toward where they saw the light, which was still flashing out an S.O.S. Lena couldn't really say why she'd advocated for this. She'd been so wary of trusting anyone new since the incident with Dylan Rogers. But there was a nudging in her head, an itching, a voice. _'She's almost home, too, Lena.'_ She could almost hear the child say. It only helped to urge her forward, gripping her rifle tighter with every step...


	36. "Not now!"

The quiet was almost unbearable for Daryl. Even their hasty movements across the playground toward the one story, long, flat building seemed far too quiet. It wasn't unusual, really, for the winter. They saw two walkers, but they wouldn't catch up anytime soon. When the trio got closer to the building, the flashing light suddenly stopped. Maybe that was what had him edgy. The double doors they found first were broken, one bent like it had been hit by a battering ram, the small windows shattered. The doors were stuck in place by the snow. The three of them exchanged glances, Rick motioning for Lena to open the door wide on the count of three.

She stepped behind it, gripping the handle with one gloved hand, watching. And when Rick counted down with his fingers, she yanked it open with all her strength, forcing it toward her against the thick snow. Rick went in first, a small flashlight held with his Colt Python. Daryl went in right behind him, crossbow moving to the right, Lena fast on his heels.

The hallway was littered with paper, open lockers, closed doors. There were about four walkers they saw initially, which were easy enough to put down in the close quarters. They moved expertly, practiced like soldiers on a battlefield. They didn't need words. They just worked on instinct and trust. They ignored every room they passed, heading for the turn in the hall that would take them near the room they saw the light coming from. But when Rick went to inch around the corner, he suddenly stepped back, flattening himself against the wall and clicking off his light. Daryl and Lena followed suit. "Shit." Rick whispered lightly. "Walkers, too many to take on our own." He said, taking in a deep breath and letting it out. Lena slipped past him then, lowering herself and peering around the corner into the dark. Daryl could see her thinking, shadows playing along her beautiful face.

When she finally stood up, she went back to stand between both men, checking her weapon. Then she pointed to an open door across from them. "You two get in there. I'll draw them off, so you can get to whoever's trapped." Daryl instantly shook his head, whispering harshly.

"No way I'm lettin you do that." He said, but Rick stepped closer to them both so he could be heard without alerting attention themselves.

"No, Daryl. She's right. She's faster than us. She can lead them off and hide in one of the rooms, then circle her way back when they clear out. It's our best bet. If someone really needs help, we'll stand a better chance without all those walkers in the way." Rick said, watching Daryl's reaction. It was Lena who broke his momentary frustration, reaching up and gripping his arm.

"I got this." She said, smiling lightly, winking at him. "Get in the room." Daryl could only clench his jaw.

"Be safe, girly." He said to her before following Rick into what looked like a computer lab, closing the door lightly behind him. He peered out of the window on the door, watching as she disappeared around the corner. A moment later he heard a shrill whistle, then saw her make her steady way back around the corner. Walkers followed, lumbering, growling, surging after her. Rick and Daryl waited for the right opportunity, quietly staring out. Rick nudged him with his elbow.

"She's fine, man." He said, reaching for the door handle. "Come on. Looks like the coast is clear." Daryl just grunted lightly, following Rick back out into the now empty hall. They rounded the corner quietly, peering into every room, looking for any signs of life without opening the door. Daryl stopped at one door completely, lowering his crossbow.

"Rick." He whispered harshly, the other man further down the hall. "Look." He said when Rick got back to him, Daryl pointed through the window at a pile of blankets in the middle of a classroom. All the desks had been pushed away, a neat pile of supplies was set up against a shelf, an unlit lantern was sitting next to a cold cooking pot. But none of that was what caught Daryl's attention. The blankets weren't empty. There was a woman laying there, half covered, lit by a flashlight on the floor aimed directly at her. The two men exchanged glances, then Daryl reached for the handle and opened the door...

* * *

Lena lead the walkers all the way around to the other side of the school, ducking in to an office, closing the door quickly and quietly behind her as the walkers milled past, unaware their prey had disappeared on them. She waited there in the quiet for awhile, the sound of her breathing filling the small space. It smelled in there, like old sweat and mildew. She flicked on her little flashlight, peering around the office space. Two desks sat across from each other, a pile of cleats sat in one corner, a white board was on one wall. The words 'Fuck the end of the world.' were scribbled on it over and over again in terrible handwriting. She smirked a little at that. She could remember thinking the same thing, long before she'd met Daryl.

She continued around, stopping near what looked like a private bathroom. She shone her light in, the reflection casting off the mirror and brightening things a bit more. That is, until a walker appeared, stepping from the side of the door. It was naked from head to toe, it's ribs protruding, missing an arm, the side of one leg hollowed out so bad that it seemed impossible that it was even moving upright. She stepped back quickly, about to whack the walker in the head with the butt of her rifle when her leg caught the edge of the desk. She fell backward hard, the air forcing out of her lungs, her rifle and flashlight flying sideways, just as the walker slurred and moved straight for her, bony rotten hands grasping for her legs.

She kicked at it, tearing its busted leg out from beneath it, turning quickly, feeling the edges of her blackout creep into her vision. "Not now!" She blurted out loud, the walker growling in response as she got on all fours and pushed herself up, moving to the desk the same time she kneed the walker in the face, grabbing for anything heavy. Her hands closed around a paper weight shaped like a football. And as she turned to smash the walker in the head, her vision went black, the world fell out from beneath her feet, and she was instantly in the void...


	37. "We saw the light. Was that you?"

The woman wasn't moving. Probably because she'd had her brains blown out. She was laying there lifeless, a small hand gun resting in her palm, blood and brains congealed around her head. She'd been dead for awhile. There was no way she'd signaled them for help. But then, who had? Daryl peered around the room. Rick picked up the woman's gun, slipping it into his waistband, then pulled the blanket up over her head before moving for the flashlight on the floor.

That was when Daryl saw a slight movement from behind the overturned teacher's desk, a tiny spark of light. "Pst." He said sharply, catching Rick's attention. He pointed toward the desk, then moved, crossbow aimed with deadly precision. He moved so quickly around the desk, he almost didn't have time to register what it was he was looking at.

She was small. Couldn't have been more than eight or nine years old. Her hair was a mess, her skin covered in dirt. She was dressed in overalls and a turtle neck sweater, filthy sneakers on her feet. And she was shakily pointing a gun at Daryl's head, her hazel eyes wide and frightened, wet with tears that glistened in the glow of a little pen light she had clipped to her pocket. Daryl held a hand out toward Rick as he got closer, motioning for him to stop. Then he lifted his crossbow strap off his head very slowly, passing the weapon over to Rick before he crouched down, hands out empty for the girl to see.

"Hey sweetheart." He said, his gruff voice as friendly as he could manage. She blinked at him. "We saw the light. Was that you?" He asked, watching her flick her eyes from Daryl to Rick when he came into view, then she swallowed, looking back at Daryl, her hands shaking, her gun shaking with it. Daryl could only imagine what he looked like to her. He didn't exactly give off the friendly neighbor vibe at first glance. But he let her see his deep blue eyes, his empty hands. "That was very brave of you. Smart." He said, smiling ever so slightly.

"Aunt Tracy taught me." She said then, her voice edging into the space around her, her gun lowering ever so slightly as a few more tears quietly rolled down her dirty cheeks. "She got bit by the creepers." Her words choked lightly, her face crumpling momentarily. "She shot herself so I didn't have to." Shit. Daryl felt his heart ache instantly for this kid. No one should have to watch someone they love die, let alone a little kid. Carl had gone through something similar with his mom. It had changed him. Maybe for the better, considering the world he was growing up in. Daryl glanced at Rick for a moment. Then he slowly sat on the ground, putting a hand to his chest.

"I'm Daryl." He motioned up, "This is my friend Rick." The girl lowered her gun some more, the piece too heavy for her to keep up for long. She let it go to her lap, but didn't loosen her hold on it. "Gotta name, sweetheart?" Daryl asked, watching her calmly. She blinked, looking at Daryl's empty hands.

"Emmy." She said softly, using her sleeve to wipe at her cheeks. "Emmy Marie Mansfield." She said firmly, forcing her hazel eyes to lock on Daryl as though saying her full name out loud was important, that she needed to remember it, and she needed anyone who heard it to remember it too.

"That's a pretty name." Daryl said, smiling lightly. "Are you alone, Emmy? Your Aunt..." he paused, motioning lightly toward the middle of the room. "Was she all you had?" Emmy stared at him, then her head lowered a little.

"I'm alone." She said softly. "I lived with Aunt Tracy... she said it was okay to be scared, that if I thought I couldn't do it alone... I could find people. She said not everyone is bad. Not everyone wants to hurt me." Something flashed in her hazel eyes, a sudden fear. She lifted the gun again, pointing it right at Daryl's chest. "I know how to use this. She taught me. You..." She swallowed, glancing at Rick. "You don't want to hurt me, do you?" Daryl shook his head instantly, catching her attention again.

"No way. You're much too tough for us." He smiled at her. She blinked, smiling a little. Then she lowered her gun. "Look, Emmy... I know you don't know us. But you can't stay here. Not alone. It's not safe. And yer runnin out of supplies. We're good people." He watched her process his words, her eyes searching his face. "I promise you, we won't let nothin happen to you. We'll look out for ya." He could almost feel Rick's silent agreement. Emmy just stared at Daryl, like she wasn't sure what she should do. Slowly, he put one hand out, open wide for her to take.

But she didn't take his hand.

She put her gun down on the floor with a clank and stood, then simply moved into him, wrapping her arms around Daryl's neck. He instinctively wrapped his arms around her little frame, suddenly thinking about Lena and the time she'd practically done the same thing to him. He stood easily, lifting the girl in his strong arms. "Let's find Lena and get outta here." Shifting Emmy to one side as she buried her face in his shoulder when they passed her dead aunt. He grabbed his crossbow from Rick with his free hand, and they left the room. Rick closed the door behind them, closing the broken little girl's past inside.


	38. "I'm Emmy Marie Mansfield."

_The void seemed different somehow. Lighter, less confining. Still safe, but far more open than she ever remembered it being. And there were stars. They stretched out above her for endless miles, sparkling in the black as though their life force was contingent on the darkness being so full. She couldn't help but stare up at them, her mouth slightly agape. She could feel herself there, too. See her hands when she held them out in front of her. That had never happened before._

"She's home now, Lena. But you have to help keep her that way." _She heard the girl say from beside her. She looked down to see her standing there. And she wasn't as Lena remembered her. She wasn't a walker, half rotted and grinning a gruesome smile. She was... beautiful. Asian, like her. She felt herself turning, kneeling down to get a better look at the girl's face._

"You're my sister, aren't you." _Lena said more than asked. The little girl grinned at her, reaching forward and taking Lena's face in her small hands._

"Always have been." _The girl said. Lena lifted a hand, covering one of the little girl's with her own._

"Are you... did you die?" _She asked, watching as the girl tilted her head, a curious look across her features._

"Do you want to see?" _She asked. And before Lena could say yes or no, everything changed._

 _Lena was standing before two hastily dug graves in the dark, somewhere in the middle of some field next to an old barn. Her brothers were standing there with her and all they both were holding shovels. Lena stepped forward, her heart heavy with a weight that was nearly suffocating her. She knelt down beside the smaller of the two graves, resting her hand on the makeshift cross one of her brothers had made. It was carved with only four letters._ 'Mase.' 

"I'm so sorry, Em." _She said, her voice strained with all the tears she'd already shed. She used to call her little sister Em instead of Mase. She'd been the only one who'd done it. She glanced at the other cross, their mother's name engraved. And she stood, walking away, leaving her brother's standing there alone. She heard the little girl walking beside her then. Her little hand slipped into her own and Lena looked down, the world fading away back into the now star studded void._

"Time to go back, Lena." _Mase grinned up at her._ "There are still devils out there, and she and home can't do it alone."

When Lena came-to, she was breathing heavily, brow beaded with sweat despite the chill everywhere. She was still holding the paper weight, back up against a metal door with a tiny window in it. And the walker was well and truly dead, its head pretty much gone, beaten to a disgusting blackened pulp of bone and rotting flesh. She dropped the weight with a clamber, swallowing down the bile she felt trying to make its way up. Then she moved quickly for the flashlight and rifle. That was when she heard a noise from the door she'd just been leaning on. She swung around quickly, her flashlight peering at the still closed door. For a moment, she had to just remind herself to breathe. She had to calm herself. Get back to the others. But first, she crept forward, lowering her flashlight to peer through the little window.

It was dark beyond. But there was moonlight shining in through large windows near the high ceilings. And what she saw made her blood run cold. Walkers. A hundred, maybe more. All milling around inside a large gym that had probably been used as an evac center during the early days of the walkers. There were just so damn many. Some were standing completely still, shadows of shadows. Others were on the ground, too rotted to stand. And the ones that milled about aimlessly were all decaying. The place was probably a boiling pot in the summer. But with the cold, they were stiffly able. She watched as a walker moved right past the door, dragging its shoulder across it. She dropped down just as it peered into the room, snuffing her light into her shoulder, waiting for it to pass. When she was sure it had moved on, she got up and turned for the door she'd come in. She had to find Rick and Daryl. They needed to get the hell out of there.

Once out in the hall, she made her quiet way back, keeping watchful of any walkers that may have circled back. She was lucky enough not to run into any. But when she turned the corner, she collided with Rick, both of them backing up and pointing their weapons at each other, only to let out hasty breaths and move toward each other again. "This place is packed with walkers. There's gotta be a hundred of them in the gym. We need to get out of-" She paused when she saw Daryl step forward. Her jaw dropped slightly, seeing the tiny form of a little girl against him. He reached forward with one hand, his crossbow strapped to his back.

"You okay?" He demanded, gripping her bicep. She nodded wordlessly, then blinked.

"Who's this?" She asked, stepping closer to him, her flashlight revealing to her wide hazel eyes and a dirty tear streaked face. She gave the girl a warm smile, reaching up and moving some hair out of her face. She didn't pull back or cringe, so that was good.

"This is Emmy." Daryl said, and Lena almost froze in place. Em. Emmy. Sonofabitch. The little girl lifted her head from Daryl's shoulder.

"Emmy Marie Mansfield." She said firmly, and Lena found herself grinning.

"Emmy, this is my wife. Lena." Daryl said, looking at Lena, and she met his gaze softly. Still loving the sound of being his wife, even more so when he said it.

"You're pretty." Emmy said before scratching idly at her own neck.

"And so are you, you're also freezing." Lena said after moving her hand away from the girl's face. She handed her rifle to Rick. "The other walkers are still at the other end of the school." She said as she unzipped her leather jacket. The inside of it was covered in fleece, thick and warm. She draped it over the girl, who slid her arms into the sleeves, hands not even reaching the holes. Daryl shifted her a little higher. "Is there anyone with her?" Lena asked, rolling down the sleeves of her sweater.

"Not anymore." Rick spoke, handing her back her rifle. "Come on. We'll go out the way we came. We have to head back." The agreement was silent, the three moving back down the halls, the girl still holding on to Daryl. They made it out of the school without incident, met with the chilly air. They followed the path they'd made back to the vehicles. The two walkers they'd spotted before were still attempting to push through the snow. One had fallen. Emmy hid her face when she saw them, but didn't make a single sound. Smart kid.

It wasn't till they were in sight of the vehicles that the lights from the end SUV turned on. Abraham stepped forward, "We were about to come looking for you." He said, glancing at Daryl, raising both brows. "What's this?" He asked, and Emmy raised her head.

"I'm not a 'what'." She said, looking Abraham up and down. "And you're fuzzy." She said matter-of-factly. Both Rick and Daryl laughed a little. Daryl lowered the little girl to the ground.

"This is Abraham, Glenn, Michonne and Sasha." Daryl said as everyone came closer. "Everyone, this is-" But Emmy stopped him, putting her hand on his arm.

"I can do it." She said, looking up at all the adults around her. "I'm Emmy Marie Mansfield." Everyone smiled a little, exchanging glances. All Lena could do was feel... warmth. Emmy was a hell of a tough kid, even if she didn't realize it. Lena could see it all over her.

"Emmy's with us now." Rick said, looking from one person to the other. "She's going to have to take the trip with us all the way. We can't afford to go back now. But we're going to look out for her." He said, looking down at the little girl and putting a hand on her head. "Keep her safe." He winked at her, and she smiled a little. And just like that, the little girl was part of a family again. "Let's get back on the road."

Daryl stood up, and instantly Emmy grabbed his hand. "I want to go with you and Lena. Can I?" Emmy asked. Daryl and Lena exchanged glances, and Lena stepped forward.

"Sure thing, Em." Lena said, "Come on. Let's get you something to eat, clean you up a bit." She said, opening the back door to their SUV. Emmy grinned a little.

"No one's called me that before." She said, Daryl leading her to the SUV. "But you can if you want." She said, looking up at Lena. All she could do was smile back. Then the little girl climbed into the back of the SUV. Daryl reached out for Lena after she closed the door, pulling her into him. He pressed his forehead to hers, the steam from their breath mingling in a combined flurry.

"You okay with this?" He asked her softly, his hands coming up to cup her cheeks. She pressed her lips to his, their kiss far warmer than the air around them.

"Yes." She said after the kiss broke. He smiled a little, then kissed her forehead before moving to the front of the vehicle and getting in the driver's seat. She made her way around to the other back seat door just as the garbage truck roared to life. She gave one last glance at the darkened school in the distance. The thought of this little girl trapped in that place with all those walkers, all alone and afraid... it made her blood run as cold as the snow. She let out a deep sigh, opening the door and sliding in. "Alright, kiddo. Let's see what we can find you to eat." She said, closing the door behind her, turning to see a big grin and sparkling hazel eyes that instantly made Lena smile.


	39. "You're all so different."

The rest of the drive was completely uneventful. All things considered, that was a good thing. Especially when it came to who they were on their way to meet. Lena managed to get Emmy fed and washed up in the back seat before the kid passed out. It wasn't till then that Lena crawled back up to sit next to Daryl, where the two of them talked quietly about the newest little addition to the group. They knew pretty much nothing about Emmy, besides her name and that she was a little spitfire. The kid hadn't offered up much information after she'd settled in, happy to be anywhere but in a freezing cold building full of walkers. She was a tough one, that was for sure.

Daryl and Lena could pretty much agree that Emmy needed the group and the safety that Alexandria provided. She wasn't the only orphan that had found their way into the fold. But the other kids were placed with families that had children already, or with people willing to take one in. There was something about Emmy, though, that they were both equally drawn to. Daryl couldn't stop thinking about how the kid had just clung to him. And when he heard what Lena had to say about her most recent memory? Well, that solidified the idea that had been running through his head as the hours passed. Something he'd have to talk about to Lena later, when he'd thought about it more.

When they finally reached the Wreckers, it was nearly midday. It was still cold as fuck, but the sun was out. Emmy was still passed out in the back seat, exhausted. Poor little spitfire. They stopped the vehicles about a hundred feet away from their large, reinforced steel gates. The Wreckers claimed an area that was about twice as big as Alexandria. But they didn't have as many people. They'd worked damn hard to keep what they had. They'd fought for their survival just as much as the rest of them. But they weren't terribly friendly to outsiders. And though they didn't go around killing anyone who 'trespassed', they didn't look on it very kindly. They all got out of their vehicles, the garbage truck and SUV's all parked on the side of the road, leaving the road itself clear.

"Abraham, Sasha." Rick said as he got to Daryl and Lena's SUV, Glenn and Michonne right behind him. "You two and Glenn stay with the vehicles. I'm going to take Michonne and Daryl and go inside. See if we can't barter our way in." He looked at Lena then, stepping closer to her. "Keep an eye on Emmy?" He asked her more than told her. She glanced at the back seat and nodded once. Then Rick and Michonne moved toward the garbage truck, Glenn going back to his SUV and Sasha and Abraham following behind Rick.

"You okay?" Daryl asked her, hooking his strap over his head and settling the crossbow behind him. They were pretty sure Sun wouldn't let anyone shoot them, but he wasn't going to walk in unarmed. Lena reached for him, settling her hands on his hips. He'd noticed a little change in Lena. A sort of quiet that was holding her back, keeping her from saying a whole lot.

"It's just... all kind of strange." She said, glancing down at the sleeping kid through the window. "My sister... what I used to call her. And now this little girl." She let out a slow sigh, and Daryl hugged her to him, holding her tight for a moment. He couldn't read her mind or know for sure how she felt, but part of him was a little overwhelmed. It still felt like yesterday they'd lost their baby. And now there was a new little life in the mix and neither one of them knew the first thing to do other than attempt to take care of the kid. Not that either one of them were experts in that field. Far from it. But they wanted to try. It seemed to be unspoken agreement between them, even if they didn't quiet realize it yet.

"We got this." He whispered in her ear so no one else could hear it, holding her just a little tighter. Those familiar words. They spread through her. He could feel her relax against him. And she closed her eyes a moment, burying her face in his neck, breathing in the smell of his skin. She kissed his throat gently, sending goosebumps running wild along his flesh before she pulled away, giving him a light smile. He let her go with a nod and one last stare before he stepped away to follow Rick and Michonne. Now it was just a matter of convincing Sun to let them through. He hoped it would be as easy as Rick wanted it to be. But the closer they got to the rifle wielding guards, the more uneasy he felt.

* * *

Lena watched them walk through the snow, up to the tall gates where two sentries stood watching from the top. A pair of men had opened one and were standing there watching them approach with automatic rifles in their hands, pointed at the ground. Lena clenched her hands open and closed, again and again, till they disappeared inside and the gates closed behind them. When she turned to look at the kid again, it startled her a little to see Emmy awake, watching her, eating a power bar. Lena gave her a little smile before she opened the door and crouched down to look in. "Where'd everyone go?" Emmy asked then, breaking a piece of the bar off and handing it out toward Lena. Lena blinked at it, then shook her head.

"You eat it, Em. The others went to go talk to some people. They'll be back soon." She said, reaching over and moving some of the disheveled hair out of the little girl's face. "What say we find a brush and get those knots out of your hair?" She asked her. And the kid just shrugged, muttered an 'okay', and took a big last bite of the bar before scooting toward Lena. She chuckled lightly, helping Emmy out of the SUV. They walked to the back, Lena opening the high trunk door, reaching in and grabbing her old pack. When she found her brush, she patted the bumper. "Climb up there." And Emmy did without protest, looking back at Glenn who was sitting on the edge of the hood of his SUV. He smiled lightly at her.

"You're all so different." Emmy said when Lena settled in beside her, beginning to run the brush through her honey brown strands, holding parts of her hair tight so she wouldn't tug too hard and hurt her.

"What do you mean?" Lena asked, Emmy shrugging again and hiding her hands in the long sleeves of Lena's jacket.

"You all act different. You all look different. But you're all the same, too. " She tried to explain in her own way. Lena smiled a little.

"We're family, we look out for each other." Lena said softly, moving on to the next section of hair. Poor kid hadn't had a thorough brushing in awhile.

"But you're not related." Emmy turned her head to look at Lena, eyes full of confusion. Lena paused, lowering the brush a little.

"You're right, we're not. But we're still family." She watched Emmy just furrow her brows a little. "Family is the people who care about you, who keep you safe and love you. And they're the people you care about, that you keep safe and love. It's not just about being related. It's about the people you'd do anything for, and the ones who'd do anything for you." Lena began brushing again slowly, watching Emmy think about her explanation.

"So..." She pushed her hands together through the fabric, looking down at her lap. "Do you think I could be part of your family, too?" If a heart breaking could make a sound, Lena's would have. She lowered the brush completely, just staring at this shell of a child who had no place in the terrifying world she was trapped in. And Lena let out a breath.

"You became a part of it the moment Daryl found you." Lena said firmly, the little girl looking back at her. She watched a slow smile blossom on her little face. And before Lena could react, the kid was hugging her. For a moment, Lena hesitated. Then her arms went around the girl, holding her firmly until the girl pulled away, sitting back down and picking up the brush, handing it back to Lena. Lena smiled lightly and continued brushing Emmy's hair, silently still a little stunned. "How old are you, Em?" Lena asked. She wanted to know more about this amazing little kid.

"Eight." She said, swinging her legs back and forth idly. "I'll be nine after Christmas." She was only eight? God, she was tiny. Or at least, Lena thought she was. Maybe she was the right size for an eight year old. Lena had no way of knowing. "Aunt Tracy used to tell me that I was the best present she ever got. My mom died giving birth to me, so Aunt Tracy had to take care of me." Lena watched as her legs stopped swinging, her little body going still. "I promised her I'd be brave. But after... when she died... I was scared." She looked over at Lena then, the threat of unshed tears in her eyes. "Do you think she's ashamed of me?" Lena blinked and shook her head instantly, reaching up a hand and cupping Emmy's cheek.

"You listen really well now, Em. Your Aunt Tracy? She is so proud of you. You survived. And I bet that's all she ever wanted for you. I bet she loved you more than anything in the world." Lena told her. Emmy's little eyes blinked, tears rolling down her cheeks quietly.

"I think she'd like you." She said, rubbing at her face with her sleeve, smearing the tears with the leather more than wiping them. "You're good. I can tell. So is Daryl." Lena had to smile at that, and wiped Emmy's face dry with her thumbs.

"Yes he is. He's a very good man." And she picked up the brush and simply started brushing again. They talked for awhile, till Lena got all the knots out and she'd learned that Emmy loved to play soccer, hated guns but wasn't afraid to use them, and that she'd always wanted a cat. It was about then that the gates opened, Glenn pushing himself off the hood and motioning to Lena. She slid out of the back of the SUV, helping Emmy down and closing the trunk. They moved to stand next to Glenn beside the trash truck, Abraham and Sasha stepping down into the snow. It was Michonne who came out with another woman beside her. They walked all the way up to the vehicles.

"Little cold out here, folks." The woman said. She was lovely, black hair with brown mixed in falling down around her shoulders in soft waves, dark eyes and caramel skin practically perfect. She let her eyes roam from one person to the other, stopping on Emmy for a moment. Emmy stepped closer to Lena, curling her hand into Lena's arm. "What say we get you all inside for a bit while we discuss your trip." Lena narrowed her gaze a little, looking to Michonne.

"It's okay. Rick and Daryl are waiting for us inside." Michonne said. She still had her katana, sheathed at her back. That must have been a good sign.

"What about the vehicles?" Glenn said, Abraham watching from where he was leaning against the truck, Sasha standing warily at his side.

"Well, Mark and Stefan are on watch. They'll keep a good eye on your stuff. Cross my heart." The woman said, making a motion over her chest with one hand. "We don't need what you have. Trust me on that one. Your leader's told me the gist of what you're about. I'm willing to help. But not until we all talk about it, as a group, over a hot plate of food."

"You're Sun." Lena said then. The other woman looked at her, and then studied her head to toe like she was sizing up just how dangerous she might be.

"And you're Lena." Sun said, stepping forward. She extended a hand. "What say we all make friendly and get the job done, hm?" Lena was silent a moment, everyone watching. Then she took the other woman's hand and shook. "Great." She said, letting go and stepping back. "Freezing out here." She smiled at everyone, then turned around and headed back toward the gate. Michonne shook her head a little.

"Is she for real?" Glenn asked then, stepping closer. Michonne nodded slightly.

"Oh, she's real alright." And that was the last anyone said before following the Wrecker's enigmatic leader inside, Emmy's little hand clinging to Lena for dear life.


	40. "That's my girl."

They were all sitting in a wide room, relaxing back in chairs that felt like they should be in a furniture store. Everyone had their weapons, which was a plus in Daryl's book. The fact that Sun and her people hadn't made them give them up was huge. Sun herself was now seated at a large wooden desk, like she was the President of the U.S. or somethin. When Lena and the others had joined them, Emmy ran right up to him, startling him a little. She was now sitting in his lap, watching quietly, listening to everything that was being said.

"Sure, that rig of yours can get you over the bridge. But we haven't been much farther than that. No way to tell you what you're in store for." Said a man standing against the wall, just off to Sun's left. He had his arms crossed over his chest, perpetual amusement dancing on his face. He called himself Shadow. What was with all the crazy ass names? Sun. Shadow. It was like kids playing pretend. But this was far from a playground scenario.

"We can handle whatever we come across." Rick said, leaning forward, his elbows on his thighs. "We just need your permission to get through. We don't want trouble, and we aren't about to bring any back to your door." Sun was watching him thoughtfully, letting the words process.

"The last time we met, you really pissed me off." She said, smiling ever so slightly. "But since we've had a steady truce, I'm willing to give you a little leeway." She stood up, pushing her chair back and rounding the desk. "You really think that just the seven of you and a little girl can pull this off?"

Rick stood then, hands on his hips, fingers of one around his holstered weapon. "We've done more with less. We'll be fine." He said firmly, meeting her humor filled gaze.

"We'll fuel you up. Let you through. But I want something in return." Sun crossed her arms over her chest, glancing around at everyone quietly for a moment, her gaze landing back on Rick. "A quarter of whatever you find." Everyone seemed to still at that, Rick turning slightly to glance at the group. It was Lena who spoke up first.

"That's hefty for just fuel and open gates." She stood up from her chair, moving to stand beside Rick. "And our vehicles will only carry so much." She touched Rick's shoulder, meeting Sun's gaze without flinching. "Give us another truck, fully fueled." Slowly Sun smiled.

"She's just as feisty as you said." Sun remarked, glancing over her shoulder at Shadow who just shrugged with a slight smirk.

"You know, that begs the question. Neither one of you has ever seen Lena before. How do you know so much about us just from two meetings?" Rick demanded. Glenn and Michonne stood, Daryl lowered Emmy off his lap, standing in front of her, the kid smart enough to stay behind him. Tension filled the air almost immediately. Sun looked around, letting her arms fall, but she didn't lose the calm in her expression.

"If we were going to be neighbors, I needed to know more about you. Shadow here," She said, motioning a thumb over her shoulder without looking, "Gathers info for me. He spent some time in your 'Safe Zone', collected what I needed. Enough to know you're reasonable, good people."

Everyone seemed to stare at Shadow then. A realization spreading through them all. "It was you..." Glenn said from just behind Rick. "You were the one on the bike!" He exclaimed. And that was all it took for all of them to whip out their weapons. Daryl didn't hesitate, stepping forward, aiming his crossbow right at Shadow's head. The guy had the audacity to look shocked.

"You asshole, you put walkers on us!" He said, driving forward, controlled rage causing his actions, only about five feet away from the brown skinned man, who put his hands up, glancing at Sun who had a hand out, putting herself between everyone else.

"Whoah! Woah!" She yelled out, putting herself right in front of Rick's gun. "What do you mean he put walkers on you?" She demanded, still not having drawn her side arm, motioning for the two men in the back of the room to get back.

"He rode a bike right up to our gets, flashing a light and makin noise, a small herd of walkers right on his ass! Then he disappeared. We could've lost people! All good people!" Rick yelled out, side stepping a little, Sun matching his movements.

"In my defense," Shadow spoke up, meeting Daryl's steely gaze. "I knew you guys could handle it. I'd been watching you for awhile."

"You fucking sonofabitch!" Daryl moved forward in one quick, powerful movement. The butt of his crossbow smashed right into Shadow's head, driving the man to the ground. It was Sun who put her hands on him, to pull him back, and Lena who grabbed Sun, ripping her off of him.

Sun tumbled aside but then put herself in between Shadow and the rest, Lena standing before her with Daryl pressed up against her back, all seething anger. "Alright." Sun said firmly. "That's enough." She met Lena's gaze. "He'll be punished, I promise you that. But I need him. He's the best tracker I have." Lena smiled then, and it wasn't friendly.

"Punish him how?" She said, "Slap on the wrist? Because we'd be happy if he lost a hand or two." Sun narrowed her gaze on Lena, then nodded slowly.

"He's going to pay. What he did is an unsanctioned act of war, as far as I'm concerned. He'll pay for it." She glanced behind her to where Shadow was pushing himself up to a sitting position, his hand plastered to his profusely bleeding head. "But for right now..." She looked back at the group, hands up again, empty still. "Please accept my apology. We'll give you fuel, we'll give you the extra truck. No need to compensate. Don't destroy our truce over the actions of one man."

"How can we trust any truce with you when you can't control your people?" Rick demanded, stepping forward, standing at Daryl's side, gun aimed down at the floor. Sun nodded slowly.

"We'll earn that back. I will. The world's shit, Rick. We need alliances like ours. And you know it."

Daryl had to admit, the woman was smart. And tough. He could feel Rick slowly brewing down, just before he holstered his weapon. Everyone did the same. Daryl shifted his crossbow, slipping it over his shoulder before putting one hand on Lena's shoulder. That was when he felt Emmy's hand in his free one. He glanced down at her, and she just peered up at him quietly. Shit. They'd probably scared her to death. Or he would have thought. Instead, she was now staring at Sun with the same distrust as the rest of them.

"Let's get you all fed. You can spend the night here while we resupply and fuel you up. Get your truck ready." Sun said, looking down at Emmy who had also reached up and grabbed Lena's hand as well. "Get your daughter a bath and some fresh clothes, hm?" Lena looked down at Emmy who just stood there glaring at Sun like she could make her head pop just by thinking. _Good girl,_ Daryl thought. It didn't even dawn him to the say the kid wasn't their daughter.

"Fine." Rick finally said, stepping back, touching Lena's arm. They all moved back. "But we stay together. And I want full details on how you plan on fixing this." He said glancing at Shadow who was now watching them all with a thick malice in his dark eyes.

After that, there were few words said. Sun called for an older woman who came in, looking like a somewhat plumper and grumpier version of Carol. "Nancy here will take your little girl to get cleaned up." Sun said, the woman just nodding and moving toward Emmy.

"No way." Lena said, instantly stepping in front of Emmy who turned and clung to Daryl for dear life. He lifted her up into his strong arms, holding her tight.

"No one touches her but us." He growled out, his voice vibrating through the kid's small frame.

"I said we stay together." Rick said then. "Lena and Daryl will go with Emmy. And that's final." He told Sun, not giving her any room for argument. The woman, Nancy, frowned and let out a breath.

"Well come on, then. Don't got all day." She grumped out, heading for the door. Rick looked to Daryl, gripping his shoulder for a moment.

"Go on. We'll catch up after." Rick said, nodding to Lena then. They followed quietly, down a long hall. The place had once been a hotel. Fancy as all fuck. Or fancy to Daryl, at least.

"Did they really attack you with walkers?" Emmy asked, lifting her head as they went. Daryl shifted her slightly, meeting her hazel eyes.

"Yeah. They did." He growled out low. She nodded firmly.

"Jerks." She said, and he couldn't help but smile a little. Especially when Nancy turned to look at Emmy with a disapproving glare.

"That's my girl." Daryl said, feeling Lena's hand on his lower back, glancing at her smiling face. None of this sat well with any of them. But they were left with few choices. If Daryl had his way, he'd pummel that Shadow bastard into the ground. But then he thought about the little girl in his arms. She'd seen him attack the man with his crossbow. It stilled something inside of him, just wondering what she must have thought of him. What had he just taught her? Emmy knew the world was a scary place, and that bad people existed. But did she know the right way to deal with people like that? Was his way the right way? What right did he have to screw this kid up?

He felt her rest her head on him again, he had to hold her a little tighter. She barely knew him, or Lena. And she trusted them so much already. Maybe it wasn't about what right he had. Maybe it was about what the kid wanted. And in that moment, he'd have given her everything she wanted if he could. But for now, they'd have to settle with a bath, clean clothes, and dealing with a grumpy woman named Nancy...


	41. "You bet you can."

She dumped another bucket of lukewarm water over Emmy's head, watching the little girl squeeze her eyes shut and hold her nose. Daryl was sitting on a stool over by the door. The bathroom they were in was off some suite on the first floor. The tub was huge, biggest thing Lena had ever seen. The water was rigged somehow to work, but didn't get very hot. Emmy didn't seem to mind. She was just enjoying having a real bath. "This beats wipes any day." She said, giggling.

Daryl seemed a little nervous about being in the room, but Emmy had insisted. For some reason, the little girl didn't want to lose sight of either one of them. He'd relented and parked himself as far away as possible, which only meant about five feet. He never once looked while Emmy undressed. He didn't even lift his head till he was sure Emmy was in the tub. It was endearing, to say the least. Lena smoothed the last of the soap out of Emmy's hair.

"There. All clean." She said, reaching for the towel that Nancy had provided them with. That older woman was one cranky old bit. She never seemed to smile. And already Lena knew she wanted very little to do with her. When Emmy stepped out of the bath, she wrapped her small frame in the big white fluffy towel, using a separate one to dry her hair. "Okay, let's see what we've got for clothes." She said, setting the hair towel aside.

It was a pair of jeans, a pair of hiking sneakers, some warm socks, a long sleeve sweater, an under shirt, and a pair of underwear that looked like it might be just a tad too big. They made it work, though, dressing her as quickly as possible for Daryl's sake. Poor guy was as red as a lobster. When Emmy was finally on the floor, tying her shoes, Lena began brushing the kid's hair into a ponytail, tying it in place with a hair elastic. "Done." She said. It was only then that Daryl looked at them, smiling a little.

"Yer tellin me there was a pretty little lady under all that grime?" He quipped lightly. Emmy giggled a little.

"Damn straight." Emmy said, standing up and smoothing out her sweater. Daryl smirked, standing up.

"Watch your mouth, punk." He said, coming over and hooking a finger under the little girl's chin. She looked up at him smiling. "Barely recognize ya." He winked at her, then looked at Lena. She couldn't help but beam at him. He was just so... damn wonderful. She reached up and moved a few of his scraggly strands out of his eyes. He leaned forward and kissed her, a quick, soft press of lips.

"Come on, let's get back to the others." He said, glancing down at Emmy who was grinning up at the two of them with all her little white teeth showing.

"I really like you two." She said, nodding her head once and skipping for the door. Lena chuckled softly.

"High praise from the punk." Lena said, following just behind as they stepped out into the main suite, Nancy sitting there looking nonplussed, waiting on them. Daryl slipped his hand into Lena's.

"Right?" He replied. "Makes us lucky." Emmy just shook her head, then walked up to Nancy, still smiling.

"Why don't you smile?" Emmy asked her instantly, then pointed at her own face. "It's easy, see?" And she grinned big and bold. Nancy raised a brow at her, sighing a little and standing.

"Sorry, kid. My happy box is broken." And with that, the older woman simply headed for the door. Emmy narrowed her eyes on her, putting her hands on her hips.

"Well, someone oughta fix it for you." She chided, following in a bouncy way that was all care free. Lena wondered what that must be like. Having nothing to worry about, if even just for a moment. Daryl squeezed her hand softly before holding the door for her so they could head out into the hall. Emmy continued chatting up Nancy, trying desperately to get the grumpy lady to smile like it was a game. Lena and Daryl walked side by side, watching.

"She reminds me of you." Daryl spoke up softly. Lena glanced at him, raising a brow. He met her gaze and shrugged a little. "She's got no idea how strong she actually is, how smart." He was watching as Emmy turned around, walking backward, talking non stop. "Or how damn cute." Lena chuckled a little, hooking her hand into Daryl's arm and leaning slightly into him.

"Are you saying I'm childish?" She asked, humor in her tone. He smirked slightly.

"You said it, not me." He said, and she smacked is chest lightly, making him laugh a little. "Still love you, though." And he put his hand over hers. They walked like that all the way back to the others. Emmy wonderfully annoyed Nancy the whole way. For a few minutes, everything was almost as carefree as that little girl. If only all the worries for the days ahead would stop nagging at her brain.

* * *

They were set up in a sort of conference room that had been cleaned out and set up with bunk beds along the walls. There were twelve beds altogether, a table with chairs, a bowl of dried meat and bread on top of it. There were also a few dressers and something that Daryl guessed was a wash basin. Tidy. Clean. He could deal with it. Especially since they were all together.

"I saw the truck. It's got a closed bed so any supplies we manage to find will be kept dry and secure. They also went out and filled up our vehicles." Rick said from where he was standing, looking down at Michonne and Sasha where they sat on the bottom bunk. Glenn was sitting opposite them. Abraham was peering out a window. Daryl and Lena had settled at the table. Emmy had crawled up on one of the top bunks, laying on her back with her head hanging off, watching everyone quietly. She always seemed to know when to be quiet and watch. She was obviously observant. A tool that would be useful to her as she grew.

"I don't like the idea of this Shadow prick still breathin air." Daryl piped up, Rick turning slightly to look at him. "Did Sun say what they planned to do with him?" He asked, switching his crossbow from the table to the floor against his chair, stretching his arms out on the table top. Rick sighed a little.

"Apparently, the Wreckers are going to hold some sort of trial. It'll be a group decision as to what they do with him." He replied, pacing a little toward the table. Abraham scoffed and let the curtain fall, wandering toward them.

"That's bullshit, Rick. And you know it." He replied roughly. Rick shook his head.

"We don't need a war with these people. Sun was right when she said we needed alliances like this. They've been dealing with this world long before we met them, and they're still here. So whatever they're doing for themselves works. We stick to us, we do right by us. We leave them to them." He urged, practically preaching in that way of his. Daryl clasped his hands together lightly.

"Rick's right. As much as I hate to say it, cause I'd love to rip that guy's balls off. We need to worry more bout gettin this run over with. Gettin back home." He said, looking around at everyone else. Rick nodded.

"We're going to eat, then sleep. Abraham and I will take the first watch. We leave first thing in the morning." He said, and stepped past everyone toward the door, opening it and stepping out into the hallway. Michonne got up and followed him quietly.

"Alright, punk." Daryl said with a sigh, standing and moving over to where Emmy was, "Come on down." He reached for her as she turned over, helping her hop off the top bunk. "Go sit. Gonna get some food in that tiny belly of yers." She moved toward the table, ponytail swinging.

"I'm not tiny, ya know." She said, heading for the the chair Daryl had been in a moment ago.

"That so. Think yer tough?" He grabbed one of the other empty chairs, turning it and sitting across from her. "Bet you can't beat me in an arm wrestle." He challenged her, face set in fake sternness. She just met his stare and smiled.

"I bet I can." She said, and at that Daryl put one hand out, elbow into the tabletop. Glenn stood, Sasha at his side.

"I bet two hand warmers that Emmy kicks his ass." Glenn spoke up, Abraham moving toward the table.

"I'll see that bet." He said, stroking his beard lightly. Sasha just smirked.

"Go get him, girl." She said, and Lena scooted her chair closer to Emmy's side. Daryl glanced at her.

"Traitor." He said, smirking slightly. Lena just grinned at him.

"Okay, put your hand in his. And push as soon as I say three..." Lena told Emmy. The little girl nodded, standing slightly to reach easier, hooking her hand into his. His hand swallowed hers, but there was a real fire in her eyes. "Okay, one... two... three!"

And with that Emmy pushed against his hand as hard as she could. Daryl didn't even have to struggle. He just watched her with amusement all over his features. But then, he let his arm shake a little, his face changing to a slightly worried expression. And then his arm began to go back more and more. Emmy's face was lighting up, she began to grin uncontrollably. Daryl made a fake grunt, like he was trying very hard to push back until... boom. The back of his hand hit the table. Emmy let him go, standing straight and jumping up and down while everyone cheered her on. "I did it!" She exclaimed. "See?" She said to Daryl, hands on her hips, all sassy like. "Told ya."

"I'll get ya next time." He said, crossing his arms back his chest and relaxing back in the chair with a grin. Despite where they were and the situation at hand, that was how the rest of the evening progressed. On a much lighter note. Thanks to a little girl that was all heart. When they'd had their fill and people started to turn in, Emmy was back on the top bunk, eyes heavy with sleep as Daryl stood on the bottom bunk so he could reach her, pulling the blanket over her body.

"Daryl?" Her heard her ask in the near quiet. He put a hand on her head, smoothing stray strands away from her eyes.

"What's up, punk?" He asked, and she smirked a little at the nickname.

"Can I always be with you and Lena?" She asked, watching him. Her hazel eyes held his gaze and he couldn't help but blink at her.

"You bet you can." He replied. "Now go to sleep." She seemed satisfied because she just tugged the blanket closer to her chin and closed her eyes. He stepped down, only to feel Lena's arms come around him, her chest pressed to his back, her head against his shoulder. They stood like that for a minute before he turned in her arms, bringing both his hands to her beautiful face.

"You're happy?" She asked him, smiling brightly, dark eyes sparkling at him and making his breath catch for a moment. Then he nodded quietly. She smiled impossibly brighter. "Good." She said, then kissed him gently before crawling into the bunk beneath Emmy. He crawled in beside her, her body curling against his, somewhat on top of him as he lay on his back, his arm around her, keeping her against him.

Rick and Abraham kept watch, despite being in a place as safe as Alexandria. Everyone else settled in. And soon the sounds of soft sleeping were heard. Daryl didn't fall asleep quite yet. He was staring up at the bunk above him, thinking about Emmy. Thinking about Lena. Thinking about the road ahead.

He was happy. It was so strange to him. Every time he turned around, the woman in his life was making him happier than he thought possible. And now there was this little girl, making him even happier than before. He couldn't help but feel a sense of foreboding because of it. Something bad always happened when things got good. Look what had happened to their baby.

He snaked his arm closer around Lena, his other hand coming up and holding on to her leg that was draped slightly over him. He could feel her breathing deeply, in and out. Fast asleep, safe in his arms. Right where she belonged. _We got this,_ he thought to himself. They always did. This time wouldn't be any different. And when the shit finally hit the fan again, like it always did, they'd come out on the other side of that, too. Together. The group, him, his Lena... and his Emmy.


	42. "I was worried about this."

It was a whole day and night worth of driving before they got to the bay. Sailor's Bridge was a massive flat strip of bridge that had two lanes in either direction. It was a big deal back when it was first built, becoming the fastest and most convenient way to get to Lawson County, which was a giant wooded and secluded area squished right up against the North Georgia Mountains. It meant people didn't have to drive a whole day around. In the center of Lawson was Littleton, a quiet vacation town that was only open during winter for all the skiing, with few year long residents. Someone had decided, back when the place was first being populated, that building a large ass psychiatric hospital was a great idea. Something about the scenery being great for mental health.

The hospital was still used right up till the fall. And not far from that was the Sailor's Bay Distribution Center, settled in right beyond the piers. It had been the hub for shipping things in and out of the area. They'd have to hit them each in order, see what they could find. But first, they needed to get across the bridge and find a place to set up camp. Which, by the looks of the bridge, wasn't going to be as easy as they'd hoped. They were all standing outside of the vehicles, peering out at the long stretch of bridge. It was about half a mile long. And during any other season, that might not have been a big deal. But during the winter, when the snow had piled up, melted some and then froze over, and there was a literal clusterfuck of cars piled up in the middle... well, it meant a real headache.

"I was worried about this." Abraham said, leaning against the trash truck. Daryl rubbed at his thigh a little, just above the now nicely healed wound. Sometimes the cold made it ache. Though he never complained.

"The Wreckers didn't say nothin bout this." He gruffed, Rick gripping his shoulder lightly.

"They didn't know. Sun said they didn't get much farther than a mile behind us. And it looks like no one's been through here since the snow fell." Rick said, eyes warily looking on. Daryl glanced at him.

"You sweet on Little Miss Sunshine or somethin?" He asked. Rick just gave him a look, and Daryl smirked. Lena was, for the most part, ignoring everyone, standing a little further ahead near an overturned minivan.

"We should walk the bridge." She said, turning, her arms still crossed over her chest. "Without maintenance over the last few years and that pile of metal in the middle, there's no way of knowing if the bridge can even handle anything driving over it now." She had a terrible feeling, like something was waiting to blow up in their faces. Okay, not literally blow up. But it was still an apt description for how she felt. Abraham straightened.

"She's right. We should check to see if it's viable. Or we might end up taking a big dip in the briny deep." He said, opening the garbage truck door and yanking out a shovel.

"Sasha, Glenn, stay with the vehicles." Rick said, moving to the truck the Wreckers had given them. "The rest of us will check it over. Be there and back quicker that way." As if on cue, Emmy hopped off the median she'd been sitting on and moved straight for Lena.

"What about me?" She asked, slipping her gloved hands out of the pockets of the pastel blue winter coat she'd been given. Lena blinked a little, then put a hand on Emmy's shoulder.

"You keep a careful eye out. Let Glenn or Sasha know if you see anything bad. Think you can handle that?" She asked the kid, who seemed uncertain for a moment, then nodded. Emmy picked her up then, taking her to the garbage truck. "Climb up top there with Glenn." She said, nodding to the Korean man who had already made his way up top. He helped Emmy the rest of the way.

"I'll keep an eye on her." He said to Lena quietly before he disappeared out of sight. All she could do was nod, not sure how she felt about being apart from the girl who'd pretty much solidified herself in Lena and Daryl's lives.

With shovels in hand, Rick, Daryl, Michonne, Abraham and Lena began walking. Three on one side, two on the other. They paced the width of each lane, stabbing at the snow with their shovels, chipping at ice in spots, moving around cars. Michonne neatly took care of a walker who was pretty much frozen in place beside a car and the high rail. They really were slow as molasses in the cold. Other than a few straggling walkers, everything seemed great till they got to the pile of cars. There was at least a dozen smashed together, several on each end stuck where they were. Abraham began to climb them, looking all of them over to see what the easiest way to get the mess out of the way might be.

Lena and Michonne climbed over the edge of a hood to get to the other side and keep checking the bridge. But as soon Michonne's feet hit the snow, a sheet of ice cracked beneath her and she kept going. "Michonne!" Lena called out, flattening herself almost instantly to her stomach, grabbing for anything and managing to get the heavy duty strap of Michonne's katana. She was grasping wildly, hanging in air as the water raged hundreds of feet beneath her. She'd fallen through a manhole cover sized hole, barely missing jutting metal and crumbling concrete. "Grab something!" Lena yelled at her, feeling hands grab hold of her legs. She could feel her arm straining, the strap in her gloved hand slipping. "Quick!" And just as she yelled it, Michonne grabbed a metal pile-on with one hand, lessening the load ever so slightly. "Hold on!" Said Lena, using her teeth to pull off her other glove, then she reached down, her ribs driving into the ice and concrete beneath the snow. She grit her teeth and reached for Michonne's hand.

"Abraham, find something to brace the hole with!" Rick yelled, inching his way forward. There was no way to see if the hole had any attached cracks. But none of them could tell if the snapping they kept hearing was ice or the bridge itself. Since Abraham was off and searching again among the vehicles, it had to be Daryl holding on firmly to Lena's legs. Good to know.

Michonne managed to get Lena's hand just in time, because the katana strap snapped, slipping away from Michonne, but luckily for her still hanging in Lena's hand. She raised it with a heavy breath, sliding it across the snow and reaching to grab Michonne. And she pulled. A person could weigh fifty pounds, or two hundred, and this still would have been hard. There was little to no leverage. And every inch of muscle Lena had to spare was straining. Abraham appeared with a car door, lowering it warily to the snow. Rick leaned on it and lowered himself flat like Lena, reaching in the hole and working in tandem with her to get Michonne the rest of the way out.

Once out of the hole, Rick yanked her on to the car door and dragged her away from the hole. And Daryl pulled on Lena's legs, dragging her toward him. It all happened so fast, Lena barely had time to process that she'd just saved someone. Instead, she just plopped her head down on one arm, breathing heavily, forcing her muscles to shut up. She heard a shaken voice then.

"Lena." She lifted her head to see Michonne sitting, cradling the arm she'd been yanked up with, Rick pressed up against her back and holding her. "Thanks. Sledgehammer." She said, smiling a little, using the moniker Abraham always used for her. Lena just smiled lightly.

"Any excuse to lay down on the job." She quipped, and they all let out relieved chuckles. Daryl put a hand to her lower back, not forcing her to get up anytime soon. She took a few breaths and got onto her hands and knees before sitting back, feeling Daryl pull her close against him.

"You alright?" He asked her, his lips near her ear. She breathed deeply, letting out a sigh.

"Ask me when the adrenaline wears off." She replied, watching as Rick helped Michonne to her feet.

"I don't think it's dislocated." He said, prodding Michonne's shoulder lightly. "But you're going to be ridiculously sore." Michonne rolled her shoulder, and then her neck.

"I can live with that." She said before bending down and picking up her katana out of the snow.

"Don't mean to break up the love fest, but we should probably see how bad this hole really is." Said Abraham, pushing snow around the edge of it with his boot to look at the road beneath.

And just like that, everyone was up and back to work like they hadn't just almost lost someone. That's what the world was like now. They lost people all the time. And it hurt like hell. And it was never easy. But almost wasn't the same as actually. So the work went on. Survival never ended. It was almost nice in its simplicity. But that was really the only good thing about it.

It took an hour to check the bridge thoroughly enough to realize the hole was an isolated incident. But it was generally accepted that traveling over or even near it was probably a massively asinine idea. They met back at the vehicles. Glenn had that thinking look on his face after they explained there was pretty much no moving the giant wreck or going around it.

"What if we pull the cars out one at a time? Use that chain at the back of the truck?" He asked, glancing from one person to the other. Abraham turned, looking thoughtfully.

"That's going to take a hefty chunk out of our day. But baby face here might be on to something." He said, scratching his beard a little.

Glenn sighed, shaking his head. "Don't call me that. And I know it's going to be tedious. But it might be the only way at this point." Rick nodded.

"Let's start by getting these single vehicles out of the way first." He said, then pointed at Lena and Michonne. "You two rest, keep an eye on the other vehicles." Both women glanced at each other and watched as the men and Sasha simply walked off. Emmy was still on the top of the truck, watching everything with Glenn's binoculars in her hands.

Lena felt Michonne's hand on her shoulder. "I know I said thanks earlier." She said, drawing Lena's attention. "But really." Lena smiled softly, leaning her rear against the side of the trash truck.

"It's okay. I'm glad I could help." She said, running a hand through her hair before pulling her snow hat out of her pocket, slipping it on over the top of her head. "Just glad I... didn't blackout during all of it." She said softly, looking down at all the footprints in the snow. Michonne turned, letting herself settle next to Lena.

"I know how much you hate those." She said softly, resting her katana in between her legs. "But they're strangely useful." She said with a smirk, then shrugged. "And they're getting better. Less frequent." Lena nodded lightly.

"They only seem to happen when I'm being attacked, now. Or when my head wants me to find a memory." She replied, looking out at the bridge as the others pushed a station wagon toward the side rail. "It's a hell of a way to remember things. Wish I could just... dream about stuff like normal people." Michonne smiled then, leaning lightly against Lena.

"If you were like normal people, you wouldn't be you. And we're sort of attached to you." She said, turning her head to look at Lena, who met her gaze with a light smile.

"Just sort of?" Lena asked, and Michonne chuckled.

"Just sort of." She replied, then picked up her sword and headed for the other vehicles. Lena watched her walk away. Her body was sore. Her ribs ached and her shoulder felt like she could use a heating pack. Or twelve. But she felt good, inwardly. Like she had a settled place in the world, and it was becoming more and more solid. There was still that sense of wariness, that hidden foreboding that Lena couldn't place, but still... for the time being, things were good. Or as good as they could be. She'd had worse. She knew worse. And she never wanted to go back to worse.

"Lena, I have to pee." She heard from above her, looking straight up to see a hazel eyed little girl staring down. She chuckled lightly, turning and holding her arms out.

"Hop down. Let's go find a bush." She caught the girl as she slid down backwards, Glenn's binoculars dangling around her neck. And off they went to find a little privacy for Emmy while the others kept working in the snow.


	43. "We ain't alone in here."

They worked half way through the night and ended up camping out in the vehicles. They didn't want to risk crossing the bridge in the dark, and they were only a few hours off from daylight. None of them got any sleep except for Emmy who promptly passed out in the back seat of the SUV pretty much the moment Lena told her to lay down.

Morning came with a soft dusting of snow, coating everything quietly in a fine powder. Luckily it wasn't heavy snow. And it wasn't falling fast. Lena was driving behind the garbage truck. Emmy was sitting up in the back, her hair lopsided in her ponytail from sleep, watching quietly. Getting over the bridge went smoothly. Daryl was driving the garbage truck, Abraham and Rick walking in front of the caravan, Sasha driving the Wrecker's pickup and Glenn driving the last SUV. All hands were on deck, all eyes on point. When they finally got to the other side, Abraham got in the garbage truck with Daryl, settling into the seat beside him. Rick joined Lena and Emmy.

And they headed into the very quiet town of Littleton in search of the distribution center first. The place looked almost untouched. Before the fall, there'd only been a few hundred residents, not counting the psych hospital's patients. And it seemed like most had fled. No reason to be stuck in the middle of nowhere during an apocalypse. But the quiet and the just eerie untouched feel of it all made Daryl stay on edge. It was like a fucking ghost town.

"This place is practically pristine." Abraham said, one hand on the dash in front of him, his other holding on to his rifle rather firmly. "I don't like it."

"I hear ya." Daryl agreed lightly, turning onto the main strip of road, the plow in front making easy work of the snow that had accumulated. Store fronts were locked up and boarded up, seasonal stores mostly. Places with skiing gear, winter clothes, restaurants, souvenir shops. What few homes they passed were boarded up, too. They followed the road, veering to the left, headed for where the woods gave way to the bay, the opposite side of the ski town. It took an hour, give or take, because of needing to plow their way through. Not to mention there was a portion of road that literally had a few downed trees in the way. The plow made easy work of them.

The distribution center itself was huge. A giant two story warehouse that ran along an entire stretch of beach. The pier itself curved around it, several docks completely dedicated to supplying the building with shipment. There was even a ship still in dock. Nothing big. Some sort of half sized cargo ship, by the look of it.

Daryl pulled the garbage truck around to the gates that led to the back lot where all the trucks went with their loads. He had to drive the truck through the gate itself, crashing it down. Then he worked on backing it up toward one of the loading bays, which was easier said than done. The garbage truck was a bitch to maneuver backward with the plow up front. But he finally got it where they wanted it. The SUV's and the truck all parked to either side, and everyone got out, weapons in hand, meeting near the ass end of the Wrecker's truck.

"Sasha, I need you up top of the truck. You should have a good view of anything coming or going from up there. Take Emmy with you." He said, glancing at the little girl who had just picked up what looked like a frozen stiff red scarf out of the snow. She grimaced at it, dropping it and wiping her hand on her jacket like it had been covered in slime. Then she just wandered over to Sasha, giving her the biggest smile, and lifting up the binoculars she still had dangled around her neck.

"I'll help keep watch." She beamed. And Sasha laid her hand on Emmy's shoulder.

"Good thing, cause I could use a hand." She winked at Emmy, who just kept smiling and began to climb the truck. She was fearless as hell. Daryl couldn't help but smirk a little, watching her for a moment before turning his attention back to the others.

"We'll sweep, just like we practiced. We don't exactly have a map to go by, so when we get in, we'll find the main store room and split off into two groups. Glenn, Michonne and I will go right. Daryl, Lena and Abraham, go left. We'll circle all the way around, meet at the other end and take the middle as a whole." They all nodded quietly, Abraham hoisting a pair of bolt cutters with a grin.

"I love my job." He said, climbing up on to the loading bay. He made quick work of the padlock, snapping the metal and tossing both it and the cutters to the side before hoisting the door up, the material of the door rolling stiffly on its gears. Without waiting, everyone moved in, weapons on point, flashlights beaming.

It was bound to be dark inside, despite the daylight. Hence the reason they also each had LED lanterns attached to their packs, Lena's idea. Sure, the light might attract some walkers. But it was better than running into them in the dark. And this way, no one would be shooting friendly targets, either. As soon as they were all in, they took turns turning each others lanterns on before moving out. They split off in their groups, following along the walls, their steps echoing uncomfortably in Daryl's ears. It was just too goddamn quiet in this town.

What they were met with was a sea of shelves and racks filled with boxes. Nothing was touched. Or at least, nothing they'd come across just yet. Daryl, Lena and Abraham made steady work of their path, checking row after row as they made their way along the wall. What they thought had been a two story building was really just a giant open space on the inside. They rounded a pair of fork lifts that looked like they just stopped in the middle of what they were doing, one raised half way with boxes. Then they turned the corner, heading down the next wall.

That was when they smelled it. "That smells like..." Abraham didn't have to say it. It wasn't long before they came upon two bodies. Not people. But dogs. Rotting away. And it hadn't been long, either. Maybe a few weeks. Daryl crouched beside one of them, using his knife to turn its head.

"Looks like it ate somethin that didn't agree with it." Daryl said quietly, seeing the large dried spot of vomit. He stood up, wiping his knife on his pants before slipping it back in its sheath. "They probably got in from a different door. Maybe a window. Keep an eye out." He said, stepping over the other dog and moving forward. Despite the huge windows overhead, the place was still filled with shadows and cold air. When they turned the next corner, they came upon a series of conveyor belts that stretched to every row, probably making it easier to move shit around. Ahead, he saw the lights from the others, making their way to the middle of the back wall just like they were.

"You guys see an open door?" Daryl asked when they all got together. Rick shook his head, lowering his gun.

"Naw, saw some offices, a cafeteria. No open doors. Why?" He asked, everyone huddling in a sort of crooked semi-circle.

"Dead dogs. Not old, neither. They had to get in somehow." Daryl replied, feeling Lena leaning slightly into his side. It eased a little of the tension in his body, just having her close. Even if they weren't holding on to each other, she was a bit of an addiction to him, he could admit.

"Keep an eye out, we stick together." Rick ordered, and like that they were all on the move again. It didn't bode well, not knowing how the dogs had gotten in. Wasn't like they'd been left in there for all this time. And they'd both had collars. Someone had cared about them at some point.

It wasn't till they were nearly three quarters of the way down the middle that things started to look less pristine and more picked over. Boxes sat open, some completely empty, others on their sides, half the contents spilled. One shelf was completely cleared out, a makeshift bed on top of it, a stack of books, a battery powered radio, a large candle, some bottles of water, a half empty package of ramen and a hot plate with steno beneath it. Daryl and Rick began inspecting the contents when Daryl's arm passed by the steno and he pulled it back, instantly feeling heat.

"Still hot." He whispered, and everyone became more aware of their surroundings than they had been. "We ain't alone in here." As if on cue, the sound of something shifting above their heads caught all their attention, just before boxes began to fall down toward them. They all jumped back, Lena pushing Glenn sideways and Rick yanking Daryl to the ground just as a heavy box the size of an oven fell to the ground. Things sprayed everywhere. Packing peanuts, cereal, a box full of canned ham. It all went flying everywhere, the impact with the floor sounding like an explosion in everyone's ears.

"Get out! You hear me, you assholes?! Get outta my place!" A thick, female voice growled out. "This is my stuff!" Another volley of boxes began to fall down. Daryl got to his feet, Rick beside him. Everyone began just putting distance between themselves and the falling boxes.

"Hey!" Rick yelled up. "We're not here to cause trouble! We just- " He was cut off when another box came falling down, this time long since expired jars of mayo bouncing out of the box when it hit.

"I'm goin up." Daryl said, making a run for it before whoever the bat shit crazy person up there could notice. She didn't seem to even see him, still focused on cussing and throwing shit. Daryl slipped his bag off and ducked beneath one of the shelves, pushing his way through to the other side. Then he climbed. It was easy, for the most part. The shelves were damn sturdy, made of thick metal. When he got to the top, just a few feet between him and the ceiling, he maneuvered carefully around a few heavy set boxes, crossbow out and aimed for what looked like an older woman. Maybe in her late fifties, early sixties, with long white and gray hair and clothes that looked like they'd seen much better days.

"Hey, crazy-betty, turn round now." Daryl growled out. And she froze momentarily before turning to look at him, a box in her hands. She stared at him, mouth open, green eyes wide. "Put the box down. Slowly." The woman's face seemed to crumple a little, like she was going to cry.

"This is my stuff... my stuff." She muttered, lips quivering, head twitching side to side, eyes darting momentarily. But she slowly put the box down. There was something off about her. Something that seemed... wrong. Like she was hearing things Daryl couldn't. And it made him more than uncomfortable. It made him want to climb the fuck back down. But he couldn't just leave her there, throwing shit at them. She might decide to do more than be a nuisance, even if they tried to avoid her.

"Daryl?" He heard Lena call up.

"Yeah, I got her." He replied. The woman whimpered a little, hands empty in front of her, palms inward like she was still holding the box.

"My stuff." She said one more time. Then it was like all the life went out of her. Daryl literally saw her eyes go from emotional to nothing at all. And she lunged for him. It was like someone flipped a switch. He let loose a bolt out of pure instinct, it caught her right in the sternum, nearly going through her because she was so close, just before she slammed into him, sending them both falling heavily, right off the shelf...


	44. "Place is ours, lovebirds."

They could hear Daryl talking once he was at the top. Lena stepped around a half flattened box of cereal, her boots crunching the contents beneath her feet. "Daryl?" She called up questioningly, considering no more boxes were raining down on them. A breath later, he replied.

"Yeah, I got her." And Rick let out a slight sigh at her side. He moved toward the shelf, holstering his gun, about ready to climb up when they all heard something that made Lena's breath catch in her throat. It all happened so fast, the sound of something rushing to the ground and then an audible crack and something sliding on the cement floor on the other side of the shelves. That crack... it was not a box.

"Daryl!" Lena cried out, and everyone was suddenly just pushing their way through boxes and shelving to quickly get to the other side. "Oh my god!" She gasped, instantly falling to her knees at Daryl's side.

On the way down, he'd somehow managed to turn himself and the woman so she landed first and he'd landed mostly on top of her. The crack they'd heard was her head, smashing like a grapefruit onto the hard surface. Blood and brain matter pooled around her. Daryl forced himself off, holding his ribs on the one side that had managed to hit the floor. Lena pulled him into her. There was a pained expression on his face, and he was breathing rather hard.

"Sonof... a bitch." He forced himself to say, Rick at his side, the others crowding around.

"You hurt?" Rick demanded, moving Daryl's hand out of the way, worry in his eyes.

"Dunno... knocked the... wind outta me." Daryl replied, still trying to catch his breath. Lena moved his vest out of the way, lifting both thick shirts he was wearing to look at his ribs where he'd been holding them. They were red already. She touched them lightly, feeling to see if they were broken. Daryl didn't react too badly, so they probably weren't.

"Dammit, Daryl." She growled at him, and he blinked up at her. "Don't do that to me." She practically ordered him, lowering his shirts. He caught her hand, and just smirked lightly, breathing a little easier the more seconds ticked by.

"What she said." Glenn remarked, running a hand through his hair with a sigh he'd been holding in. Abraham moved to pick up Daryl's crossbow where it had slid several feet away, handing it back to him when he reached out for it with his other hand.

"What the hell happened?" Rick asked when Daryl tried to sit up. Both he and Lena helped Daryl, shifting him so he could lean against her.

"She just... came at me. Faster than she looked." He breathed out, rubbing his ribs idly. "She went all nuts. Shoulda seen her eyes, man." He said, glancing at Rick who just nodded softly. He had no reason not to take Daryl for his word. After all, Daryl was a brother to him, and vice versa.

"Think you can stand?" Lena asked him. He nodded, Rick and Glenn helping him up. Once on his feet, he bent over for a moment, one hand on his knee, taking in a deep breath and letting it out.

"Ribs hurt like a bitch." He muttered. Lena put a hand on his back.

"They're probably bruised. I didn't feel any breaks. And you wouldn't be standing just yet if there were." She said softly, not sure how she knew it. Just that she did. She felt the rush of adrenaline she'd had start to wear off, along with the insurmountable worry she'd felt at the idea that Daryl could have died.

"Maybe you should hang back, rest while we check the last bit out." Michonne offered.

"Naw, I'm good." Daryl said, standing straight, only to wince and grab his ribs again. Rick came up, gripping Daryl's shoulder softly.

"Take a break. We've got it covered." He glanced at Lena, "Stay with him." He said, then motioned the others on. Daryl didn't look happy, but he didn't argue, either. Instead, he pushed his back against one of the metal posts of the shelves and slowly lowered himself to a sitting position. Lena watched him quietly for a moment, then stepped through the shelves to grab her bag. She came back and sat at his side, slightly in front of him, and began rifling through her stuff.

"What're you doin?" Daryl asked, watching her, his deep blue eyes hiding his discomfort expertly.

"Taking care of your clumsy butt." She said, pulling out the sort of ice pack you snapped and shook, which she did. Then she reached forward and lifted his shirt again, resting the pack against his ribs and scooting closer so she could hold it in place.

"Ain't clumsy." He muttered, letting his head fall back, staring ahead at nothing in particular. "Didn't want to kill her." He remarked after a moment. Lena rested her hand on his knee, squeezing it lightly. He glanced at her.

"She didn't give you a choice." She said softly, offering him a light smile. Daryl was a protector at heart, a man willing to do what was needed for those he called family or friend. But that didn't mean he wanted to kill people who were strangers. He gave people the chances that hadn't been given to him until he'd found this group. Sometimes, though, people were just bad. Or nuts. And no amount of chances could help them. "Honestly," she said, glancing at the dead woman laying further off from them, "I'm glad it wasn't you."

"Shit, I'd hope so. Else I'd need a refund." He joked, making her look at him again. She smirked lightly.

"Don't be a dick." She said, lifting the ice pack to look at his ribs. They were already starting to turn blue and purple. He was going to be sore as hell for awhile.

"You like my dick." He said, and she laughed a little.

"Really? You want to make sexual innuendos now?" She said, pressing the ice pack back to his ribs and making him wince a little, unintentionally. He shrugged then.

"Anytime's a good time for those." He said, and he winked at her, making her smile as he grabbed the hand she had on his knee and just curled his fingers into it, holding her hand to him and letting out a slow breath. She hated that he was hurt. Hated that he was obviously in pain. But it could have been so much worse than this. They were quiet after that, just sitting there. She kept an eye out for the others and watched the shadows for any other unexpected crazy people.

About twenty minutes later, the others came back. "We went and checked out the offices and cafeteria again. No open doors. The dogs probably belonged to her." Abraham said when they got closer. "Place is ours, lovebirds." Lena looked from the others to Daryl, smiling lightly.

"Guess you didn't bruise your ribs for nothing, then." She said, and he let out a huff of breath.

"Let's get to work then. Ain't got all day." He said, pushing himself to his feet before any of them could protest. Rick just shook his head with a light smile. They all knew it was useless to argue with Daryl when it came to stuff like this. He was a firm believer of pulling his own weight, of doing the work till the work was done, and not complaining about something like bruised ribs. He was so much tougher than most people. And yet, still had a kindness set deep in his bones that couldn't be matched by anyone else. It was a strange mix, to be sure. But one she wouldn't want to ever change. It was just who he was. And who he was? Well, that was someone they all cared for, all respected, all needed. And the only man she loved, stubborn streak and all.


	45. "Didn't I tell you to shut up?"

It took time to figure out how the warehouse was set up. Each section had different kinds of things. The food, which was pretty much the most important resource, was in the middle, right in the area where crazy-betty had set up camp. Not surprising. She might have been batshit crazy, but she'd still had a stomach.

After Daryl had hurt his ribs, he moved a little slower than he wanted. Not to mention his thigh had started acting up a bit. He must have tweaked it when they hit the floor. But he didn't say word one about it. He just wanted to get done what needed to be done and move on. Like everyone else, this place felt off to him. It was just so untouched, aside from the old lady and the dogs. It didn't make sense.

“Maybe it really was fully evac'd, or maybe just no one thought moving that wreck was worth it.” Abraham had suggested. Both possibilities. But no one seemed to buy either one. Rick made the call to wait till the next morning to load up the supplies. They'd get as much food, water, batteries and such as they could get their hands on, work through the day and just get it done. Then they'd head for the psych hospital and get the medical supplies they were lacking. Daryl supposed rushing it now wasn't going to do anything but exhaust them even more. They were all tired from not having slept the night before. And they were all on edge after the incident with crazy-betty.

After getting her body out, wrapped in a tarp Glenn had found, Rick had everyone move inside. Better to sleep indoors, in a locked warehouse, than out in the open in uncomfortable vehicles. They went around twice, making sure every door was locked and every window they could reach was bolted. Then they began to set up sleeping bags and bed rolls just by the loading dock door. That was about the time that Emmy admitted she was scared. She didn't like how dark it was in there, or the fact that it was so wide open. She seemed to think bad things could just come out of anywhere in that place. And no one could blame her. Lena suggested setting her up in one of the offices, where it was a smaller space with walls and a lantern could offer more light.

Lena and Daryl found an office with a couch, set Emmy up on it, and tucked her in. He took a chair to sit out by the door while Lena hummed the girl to sleep. He couldn't explain the tension he felt, which had nothing to do with his sore body. It was like he just had all this pent up energy and alertness that he couldn't get rid of. And all the shadows and foreboding feel of this place wasn't helping any.

Lena came out after awhile, stopping by his side and drinking from a bottle of water. He could feel her watching him as she twisted the cap back on it. Like she could feel the tension coming off him in waves. She set the bottle on the floor, reaching behind her and closing the door so it was only a crack, a sliver of the lantern light painted across the concrete. “You okay?” She asked softly. He looked up at her and shrugged a little.

“Yeah.” He looked back down at the splash of dim light on the floor. “Somethin bout this place jus... doesn't sit right.” She moved in front of him, crouching down so she could look up at him, her hands on his knees.

“You need to sleep.” She said, tilting her head a little. “We all do.” He knew she was right. But it wasn't exactly like he could push a button and make the tension go away. He reached forward and curled some of her stray hair behind her ear and sighed, watching the way the shadows played on her beautiful face for a moment.

“Can't.” He said, letting his hand fall back to his lap. “Too tense.” She blinked up at him. He could almost see the wheels turning in her head. “I know that look.” He said, “What're you thinkin about?” She smiled at him then, a warm and somewhat mischievous look on her face. And she stood up, holding her hands out to him. He raised a brow at her, glancing at her hands.

“Come on, stand up. I won't bite.” She chided him softly, a touch of humor in her tone. He narrowed his eyes on her, but took her hands and let her help him stand. Then she let go of his hands and put her palms flat on his chest, gently gliding them down his torso.

“What're you up to?” He asked quietly, seeing a familiar fire in her eyes.

“Shut up.” She ordered him quietly, leaning forward and kissing him. A deep, slow kiss, the kind that made him completely pliable and willing to do whatever she wanted. And she knew it, too. She slipped her fingers into his belt, undoing it and letting the ends fall to the sides. Then she undid his button, his zipper, slipping both hands into the cloth and curving her fingers around to his rear before sliding his pants straight down. She broke the kiss, staring at him as she brought her hand to his dick, her thumb smoothing over the tip. He had to let out a little breath, one hand coming up to her side to steady himself.

Then she gently pushed him down into the chair, making him sit as she made his dick go from half staff to full attention. “I haven't washed since Alexandria.” He said just loud enough for her to hear. With her, he was thoughtful like that. She just put her free hand to his lips and shushed him.

“Didn't I tell you to shut up?” She said, a slight smile playing on her lips. Once she was satisfied that he was as hard as he could be, she moved back and stepped out of her boots. Then she undid her own belt and button, sliding her jeans and panties down and on to the floor, watching him watch her. _Shit, Dixon, you better shut up,_ he thought. Once she was nude from the waist down except for her socks, she moved back toward him, straddling him, one hand grabbing his dick to help guide him into her. And she lowered herself on top of him, drawing a teeth-gritted grunt from him. It never ceased to amaze him how amazing it felt to be inside of her. The warmth, the tightness, the wet. It was a drug he would gladly overdose from. She put her hands on the back of this chair, to either side of his head, and simple began moving.

She found a rhythm almost instantly, riding him in deep, tight intervals. It was both fast and not fast enough, building a pressure in him he didn't dare fight. His hands found her hips, wanting to feel her move, gripping her soft flesh. Her eyes never left his as she worked on him. The heat between them was filling the chilled air, her exposed skin glistening with soft sweat. She was panting softly, and so was he. For a moment, they were just lost in that deadlock stare. He could feel all the tension in his body transform into something else, something that was all hers if she wanted it. It dawned on him momentarily that he didn't have a condom on. But she knew. He could see she knew, and she didn't care. So he kept with the shutting-up, and let her stay in complete control.

It wasn't long before that pressure became too intense, his hands gripping her hips, forcing her down once more on top of him as deep as she could go. And she covered his mouth with hers as he came. He moaned into her mouth as their tongues danced and his dick pulsed inside her until there was simply nothing left to give. Then their kissed slowed, softened the same time his hands did, her body stilling on top of him. And gently, the kiss ended, their foreheads together. Their eyes closed. And they sat like that till the adrenaline wore completely off, the chill air reminded them it was cold, and his dick had begun to shrink, slipping slowly out of her.

She stood up, then, sliding off him quietly, smiling with heavy lidded eyes. “Don't move.” She said to him, stepping away and walking toward the cafeteria which was only a few doors down. He watched her walk off, wearing nothing but socks and a sweater, and couldn't help the lazy smile that spread on his lips. When she came back, she had a dish towel. She used the water she'd had earlier to wet it. Then she simply cleaned him without a word. All he could do was watch her in utter amazement. The way she took care of him... it awed him. When she was done wiping him down, she stepped back to clean herself. He stood up, pulling his pants up and cinching them in place while he watched her. He kept watching her while she dressed, then he just had to break his silence.

“I can't believe yer mine.” He said softly, surprised by the tenderness in his own voice. She finished fastening her belt, then stepped toward him, affection all over her face. She kissed him softly, letting him pull her into him. She smiled again when the kiss ended.

“I love you, Daryl Dixon.” She said in almost a whisper.

“I love you, too, Lena Dixon.” He said, smiling lightly. But her reaction? She suddenly beamed at what he'd said, curling her hands into his shirt.

“Say my name again.” She said, and he nodded. He was glad to comply, just to see her look so happy.

“Lena Dixon.” He said more firmly. And she laughed. That light, joyous laugh she only ever really had around him. She stepped back and slipped her hand into his, leaning down to grab her boots. Then she led him toward the door, opening it wide again. She must have laid out their blankets when he was sitting out there, because they were on the floor near Emmy's couch, ready for them to sleep. She tossed her boots on the floor and settled down on the blankets, relaxing on to her side. He was happy to nestle in behind her, pulling a blanket over them, pressing his chest to her back, draping his arm around her body. She hugged his arm to her.

Where before he'd been tense and on edge, now he was just well and truly tired. All the tension was gone. And though his ribs were still sore, he was too exhausted to care. His woman knew how to take care of him better than he did. She'd worked some sort of magic, that was for sure. He began to drift off pretty much the same time she did, his face in the back of her neck, breathing in the smell of her skin, hoping that this place wasn't as awful as they all felt like it was.

Right before he fell asleep completely, he couldn't help but wonder if they had all just been imagining things, or if there really was something to the terrible feelings that had been haunting them all...


	46. "I'm okay... I'm okay, Em."

There was just so much to go through in the warehouse that it took the whole day to get what they really needed. They decided to spend one more night, then moved on in the morning. The garbage truck, the Wrecker's truck and the back of both SUV's had been stuffed. And they still needed to get medical supplies. They'd managed to find some in the warehouse. But it was mostly boxes of aspirin, bandaids and over the counter stuff. What they really needed were prescription meds, antibiotics, surgical tools, and other things Denise had made a list of.

So they drove the slow way up the hill to the psych hospital. But as they got half way up, they saw a sign half buried in snow that read, 'Fear not the darkness, for the truth lies within the-', the rest hidden. For whatever reason, it sent a chill up and down her spine. Daryl glanced at her while he drove, reaching out and putting a hand on her thigh, the warmth of his palm going through her jeans. She wrapped her fingers around his hand, sinking into her seat a bit more, not entirely sure why she suddenly felt so uneasy.

Then, barely a minute later, they saw another sign. 'It is in the darkness that monsters shall be cleansed.' Emmy spoke up from the back seat.

"Those signs are weird." She muttered softly, Daryl glancing at her in the rearview mirror.

"Ignore 'em." He said, turning his eyes back to the road. It wasn't till they got to the very top of the hill, a massive brick structure rising up above them surrounded by the silhouette of mountains and trees, that the uneasy feeling blew up into full blown ill. She didn't want to be there. She wanted to turn around and leave and never come back. Her whole body tensed up, and she was clinging to Daryl's hand so tightly, her knuckles went white.

"I don't like it here..." They heard Emmy say from the back seat, saying what they were probably thinking. They pulled the SUV to a stop next to the garbage truck, staring up at a sign which was really a giant piece of wood leaned up against the side of the building that read, 'And now the ashes remain, and all who were and all who were not have stepped away.'

"Shit..." She heard Daryl mutter beside her. But she couldn't look away from what they saw before them. It was... terrible.

The entire building was missing its windows. And hanging from each sill were walkers, dangling from ropes like people had jumped and were just left there. The worst part? Some of them were less decayed than others. Some of them were fresh. "We need to leave. Right now, Daryl." Lena found herself blurting out. She couldn't explain the fear that had seeped into every pore, pulsing with each heart beat. Emmy let out a little sob from the back seat, hiding herself down low on the seat. It was then that they heard Rick's voice on the radio.

 _"I don't like the way this looks. We're not riskin it. We're turning around and headi-."_ His voice suddenly cut off. There was a loud pop. They saw Abraham jump out of the garbage truck, rifle in hand, motioning that there was danger. Daryl instantly turned, reaching for his crossbow and the rifles in the back seat.

"Emmy, get down, on the floor. And don't move, you hear me?!" He ordered her, and the poor frightened girl only nodded, silent tears on her face as she curled up into the footwell. Lena was already out the door, one hand holding her hand gun, the other slamming the door behind her. That's when they heard gunfire. The cold air seemed impossibly chill, stinging her exposed skin.

Abraham popped off a few rounds, just as Daryl and Lena met his side and Sasha slipped out of the truck next to them. "Where's Rick?!" Daryl demanded, Michonne and Glenn running through the snow next to them from the other SUV.

"He's pinned down, still in the truck!" Abraham growled out, shooting again, Sasha joining him. Glenn and Michonne went around the other side of the truck. Daryl and Lena peered around the front to see what they were up against. What she saw? Well... there would never be enough bleach to cleanse her eyes.

Men and women in various states of dress, covered in skin that was obviously not their own, body parts hanging from ropes around their necks, were shooting at them from below a low brick wall. To say they looked completely and thoroughly out of their minds was an understatement. The worst part? There was no way to know if they were former mental patients or not. If they'd been dressed normally, they'd have just been people firing on their vehicles with automatic weapons. They watched as Rick forced his way out of the opposite door, crouching low, windows shattered all over the Wrecker's truck. He flattened himself against the side, motioning for someone to go around.

Lena saw a low wall, connected to the staircase, that might offer enough protection so she could lay down more cover fire. They heard Glenn and Michonne begin shooting off rounds. The Crazies fell, one at a time, but there were just so many. There had to be at least two dozen. At least they knew where all the people had gone. Lena gripped Daryl's arm. "Cover me!" She said to him over the gunfire. He didn't look happy about it, but he nodded. Then he switched his crossbow for the rifle at his back, and simply began firing along with Abraham, drawing the loony bunch's attention as she booked it for the low wall.

She practically did a baseball slide into the snow, bullets barely missing her as they snapped into the wall and the snow around it. She pressed her back to the wall, checking her surroundings. Then she slowly peered over the edge. She had a far better view of Rick, and the people firing at him. If he could make it to the garbage truck, they might all just be able to get back in their vehicles and get the fuck outta dodge. Of course, they'd have to abandon the Wrecker's truck. But if it meant saving Rick, it was really fucking worth it.

Lena raised her rifle, setting it to single shot. She took a deep breath, letting it out, and began firing. One after one, the Crazies started going down. Each shot hit home, dead center in the head or the heart. To say she was a crack shot was an understatement. She'd never been kidding when she said she could use just about any weapon put in her hands. Once they'd thinned out the ranks a bit, she set her rifle back to automatic. Then she whistled at Rick. "Run for the truck!" She yelled at him, then she stood, half hidden by a pillar, and laid down cover fire, spraying bullets along the brick wall in neat lines. Rick wasted no time, he got up and ran, then dove beneath the garbage truck, a bullet narrowly missing his head and bouncing off the side of the truck. He crawled beneath, dragging himself to the other side. Sasha helped pull him to his feet.

"There's too many, we have to go, now!" He ordered. He told Michonne and Glenn to get back to their SUV. The others covered down till they were safe. Then Lena made her way back to the truck and the rest. But there was a moment, just before she reached the cab, that there was a sudden weight against her head. She felt her feet fly out from beneath her and she was suddenly flat on her back in the snow, blinking up at the white sky, stunned and confused.

"LENA!" She heard Daryl's panicked and roaring voice, then hands on her booted feet, dragging her to safety. That was when she felt it. A heavy and terrible throbbing in her head. She lifted a hand to where her scar was, feeling wetness that wasn't snow. Had she really just been shot in the head?! No, she'd be dead if she was, right? All she could do was blink, her vision starting to swim.

"Go, go!" Rick yelled, helping Daryl pick her up and take her to the SUV. Abraham and Sasha climbed into the trash truck, staying low at the barrage of bullets. Lena was settled into the front passenger seat of the SUV, Rick in the driver's seat. Daryl got in behind her. And before anyone could think any further, they sped away, the SUV's first and the trash truck right behind, easily plowing over anyone who tried to stop them. They left the psych hospital behind in a flurry of spinning wheels and spraying snow.

"Lena, girly! Stay awake!" She heard Daryl say from behind her, the feel of some sort of cloth pressing to the side of her head. She could hear Emmy crying, sniffling lightly.

"Is she okay? Lena?" She heard the little girl say. She was trying to focus on the road before her. She felt Rick reach over and press her back into the seat, apparently she'd started leaning forward.

"I'm okay... I'm okay, Em." She said, her voice much calmer than the situation called for. Though she couldn't have said why. The throbbing turned into a massive sharp stabbing pain, then. And before she could even react, the quiet dark poured in all around her like a black ocean, drowning her down into its depths.


	47. "I like that idea."

The three vehicles moved until they were well past the bridge, not stopping till they were out of sight of the water. Then Glenn stopped his SUV, Rick and Abraham stopping in turn. Rick instantly got out of the vehicle, coming around to the passenger side door and yanking the door aside. Daryl had pulled Lena's seat down earlier so it was as far back as he could get it, the headrest practically in his lap. Rick leaned in over Lena, which would have been awkward if she'd been awake. But she was well and truly out cold. Daryl peeled back the rag he usually carried, the cloth pulling away, soaked in her blood. Rick inspected the wound, which had pretty much stopped bleeding. Then he smiled lightly. “What?” Daryl demanded instantly, watching his friend's face.

“The bullet gouged out her scalp, but it didn't go in.” He remarked, looking a little closer. “No way to tell if it cracked her skull or not.” His expression sobered slightly, and he met Daryl's gaze.

“Remember what Denise said?” Daryl asked very quietly.

_“She probably had some sort of traumatic brain injury. Probably not a hemorrhage but maybe some bruising on the brain itself. Most likely a skull fracture to go with it.” Denise had remarked about Lena's scar and her blackouts. “It would explain the amnesia. The Intermittent Explosive Disorder. But it's not really like I can do a scan to take a better look at her gray matter.” She set the large text book down that she'd been looking at. “I'm actually pretty surprised she functions so well. I mean, that must have been one hell of an injury. The fact she healed with no medical assistance is pretty much a miracle. She should be dead, considering the state of things now.”_

_“Do you think it'll affect her health in the future?” Rick had asked. Denise just shrugged._

_“There's no way to know. Even when we had advanced medical technology at our disposal, there was still so much we didn't know about the brain and how it works. But I wouldn't hit her over the head anytime soon. Especially not in that spot. It could trigger any number of things. Seizures, a blood clot. Maybe even wipe her memory again.”_

Just remembering all that Denise'd had to say, it paralyzed him. All he could do was sit there and stare back at Rick. Finally, Rick put his hand over Daryl's, pushing it and the cloth back against Lena's head. “She's unconscious. She'll probably need some stitches. Don't think the worst, okay?” And he slipped out of the SUV to talk to the others who'd all gathered near the open door. “We're going to drive straight on to the Wreckers. No stopping unless absolutely necessary. Use the radios for communication.”

“What about the broken windows in the truck and your SUV?” Abraham asked. “It's going to get mighty cold, especially at night, driving without them.”

“We could tear the tarps up, tape them down. Won't keep the chill out but at least there won't be wind blowing in your faces.” Glenn suggested. At that point, Daryl pretty much drowned them out because suddenly, there was a little girl pressed against his side. She'd curled her hands around his bicep, sitting as close to him as she could possibly get.

“Is Lena... is she going to die?” She asked then, forcing Daryl to look down at her. She'd long since dried her tears, but looked wary, somehow older than her years.

“Naw, punk. Not today.” He responded, and she looked back at Lena, swallowing lightly.

“I don't want her to die. I've... I've never had a Mom and Dad before. And now I do.” She said, squeezing his arm a little tighter. “I don't want to lose either one of you.” His heart instantly burst, and he couldn't quite help the threat of tears in his eyes. But he forced them back, staring at this kid who deserved far more than the shit she was growing up in.

“I can't promise you we won't die, Em.” He said then. No point in lying to her. She knew what the world was, and knew damn well what death was. “It's gonna happen someday, one way or another. But I can promise you, you're part of a family now. A big one. And you ain't never gonna be alone again. Long as Lena and I can, we're yours, punk. And so is everyone else in this group.” She looked back up at him, and gave a small smile.

“I like that idea.” She said, then lowered her head to his side, still holding on to him.

“Mom and Dad, huh?” He asked, a slight sideways smile playing on his lips. He felt her nod against him. “I like that idea.” He said, mirroring her words. She giggled a little but then settled, just growing quiet and warm at his side. Daryl smoothed his free hand through Lena's hair. “Hear that, girly?” He said, lowering his forehead to Lena's and resting it there, closing his eyes. “Looks like we got ourselves a daughter.” And they stayed like that, the three of them, till Glenn rigged his tarps and they all started moving again.

Lena was holding on to life, Daryl was holding on to her, and Emmy was holding on to them both. They might have rescued that little spitfire of a girl, but she'd chosen Daryl and Lena to be hers. And damn if Daryl wasn't going to be the Dad she deserved. He knew without a doubt Lena was going to be the best Mom in the world. _We got this,_ he reminded himself as the vehicles made their way back toward home. _Jus wake up, girly..._


	48. 'What do you think heaven is like?'

'What do you think heaven is like?' _Mase asked from beside her. They were sitting on a wooden dock, a sea of black ocean around them, their feet hidden beneath its feather soft waves. The impossibly bright stars stretched out among the void, reflecting on the rolling water. The sound of it lapping against the dock was hypnotizing, calming._

'You don't know?' _Lena asked, looking down at her little sister who was tucked in close to her side. The girl smiled and laughed a little._

'Nope. I've been here with you, silly. But I'm done now.' _She said, looking up to meet her gaze. That was when something occurred to Lena. Something... earth shattering. And yet, she'd never felt so calm._

'I remember... everything.' _She whispered, lifting her hand to the scar and fresh wound above her left ear. Mase nodded quietly. Then hugged her. Tight little arms enfolding her._ 'I remember putting you down...' _Lena continued._ 'My last name. Who I was before. Everything.' _Mase pulled away then, standing up and smoothing out the folds of her flowery dress._

'Your last name's Dixon now. The rest doesn't matter anymore. Cause you're home.' _She leaned over and kissed Lena right on the head._ 'And now it's my turn.' _She beamed brightly, turning toward the water._

'Will I see you again?' _Lena asked, wanting nothing more than to pull her little sister back toward her. But she stayed where she was. Lena knew... this had to happen. Mase shrugged, glancing at Lena over her shoulder._

'Future's a mystery, right?' _She grinned and then leaned forward, falling into the dark abyss of ocean without so much as a splash, leaving Lena alone in the void for the first time in a very long time. Slowly she stood, stepping back away from the water._

'I need to wake up. I need to go home.' _She muttered to herself. And just as the words came out, the stars began to fall all around her. Everywhere they hit, light exploded in spirals of bursting diamonds till everything was bright and the darkness was erased, leaving her no choice but to blink out of the void..._

* * *

Lena woke up, stretching in the bed, the feel of a single sheet smoothing over her bare skin as she slowly let her body relax once more. It had been three months since she'd been shot. Spring was working hard on erasing the tough winter from memory. The run was so far behind them now and all they'd seen, that she barely thought about it. The Wreckers, who'd kept true to their alliance, had patched her up and promised to send a crew of people to clean out the psych hospital when the warm weather came. They also promised to keep sharing the supplies at the distribution center with Alexandria. Fifty, fifty. And so far, they'd kept to their word. In return, the people in Alexandria exchanged knowledge, Lena taught Sun's people to defend themselves without weapons, and both groups worked together to expand both of their Safe Zone's. It was a pretty fruitful union, all things considered. Kinda like the one she had with the man laying naked beside her in bed.

She felt Daryl stir, his hand sliding across her stomach, face nuzzling against hers. She lifted a hand, slipping her fingers into the hair at the back of his head. "Mornin." He muttered, moving himself closer to her. That was when she felt his morning wood, making her smile lazily.

"Morning, yourself." She said, turning her head to look at him. He stretched then, pulling away from her momentarily, the sheets pooling at his waist, his strong upper body exposed. She really did like the view. Then he turned toward her, propped up on his side by one arm, elbow in the mattress. She beamed at him, one hand resting flat on his chest, feeling his steady breath, the pumping of his heart beneath his ribs. "How'd you sleep?" She asked, watching his blue eyes slowly wake up as he looked down at her form beneath the sheets.

"After last night? Like a fucking rock." He muttered, then lowered himself to trail some kisses along her neck, her throat, back up to the curve of her jaw, just tasting the salt in her skin. She closed her eyes, smiling still, remembering the incredible sex they'd had last night. Twice. Her body still ached, in a good way. Honestly, she'd been surprised they hadn't woken Em up. Then again, that kid could sleep like no one else Lena knew.

And like magic, they heard a small giggle at their open door, that little punk of theirs announcing her presence. Daryl lifted his head, looking over at Emmy who was standing there in jeans and a t-shirt, hair all a mess, hugging the door frame with a sloppy smile on her face.

"Were you two having sex?" Em asked, grinning ridiculously wide. Daryl blinked, then reached beneath his head and slowly pulled out a pillow.

"What the hell you know bout sex, you punk?" He demanded, his voice gritty. Emmy didn't miss a beat, though.

"Everything." She said, letting go of the door frame and crossing her arms over her chest so very much like Daryl did. "I wasn't born yesterday, you know." Daryl smirked at that.

"Smarty pants, get your butt downstairs and eat some breakfast." He said, then threw the pillow at her lazily. She side stepped it, sticking her tongue out, then laughed before running off, the sound of her bare feet slapping the steps on her way to the kitchen. Lena couldn't help it, she blushed and plastered her hands over her face and mumbled.

"Oh my god." She managed, then slid her hands off her face to see Daryl grinning at her. Then they both just laughed uncontrollably, his face falling into her barely covered chest as they shook the mattress with their laughter.

That's how life was now. Happy.

There were still hard times, walkers, deaths. Still events that shook the group to its core. Still evil in the world. But when it was like this, just her and the two people she loved most in the world, she was happier than she could ever remember being. And she could say that now. Because she remembered everything, all the way back to points in her rather strict upbringing. She'd told Daryl as much, not long after she'd woken up from the head wound. He just smiled at her. _'Don't matter who you were. Matters who you are. And who you are is everythin.'_

And that was that.

She left her old self in the past. As far as she was concerned, Lena Na died when her brother smashed her head in with a rock. She was Lena Dixon now. Leader, teacher, wife, mother, survivor. And that was all she wanted to be. She had no more blackouts. No more trips to the void. Mase was gone. Perhaps the only part of that place Lena would ever miss. But her little sister had been right all along about Daryl. He was her home. Always had been. Lena just had to lose everything she was in order to find him. Knowing how happy he made her, how amazing of a father and a husband he was, she wouldn't change that for anything. The end of the world had taken so much from everyone. But it had given her so much in return. And she spent every day now more grateful than anyone would ever realize...

* * *

Daryl watched Emmy and Judith drawing with chalk on the sidewalk, turning the wrench on his bike a few more times before tossing it back into the tool box. He had a run to go out on with Aaron later. But for now, he was giving the motorcycle a much needed tune-up. All the while enjoying listening to the two girls. The age difference didn't seem to matter to them. They got along amazingly. Emmy really was a hell of a kid. And hearing her call him 'Dad' instead of Daryl, well... that just made him impossibly more fond of her every day.

He felt Lena sit behind him on the steps, her legs to either side of him, her chest pressed to his back as she reached around him, holding out a glass of water. "Hey." She said, kissing his cheek when he took the water. He drank it down thankfully and without stopping for air, setting the empty glass down a moment later. "Lush." She joked, wrapping her arms around him, resting her chin on his shoulder.

Looking back on the years before he'd found her, even before the walkers, he couldn't remember ever feeling so whole. Here was this woman who was lightyears out of his league and she loved him, with everything she was, for everything he was. And here was this little girl who'd decided she wanted him for a Dad, out of all the people left to choose. There were still days when he thought he was going to royally fuck this up. There were moments when he second guessed himself till his head hurt from the effort. But then there were times like this, when his girl was happy and his wife -his wife- was holding him. And he couldn't help but think he must be doing something right.

"I think this is what heaven's like." She said softly, turning her lips into the crook of his throat, kissing him softly. He had to agree with her on that one. He lifted a hand, curling his fingers in her hair before he remembered the grease on them, pulling them away quickly and grimacing a little.

"Sorry." He muttered, grabbing the rag again and wiping at his fingers. She just laughed lightly, tightening her hold on him. She was good like that. Shit, she was just good.

"Hey Dad, look what Judith drew." They both heard Em say, lifting their heads to look at the sidewalk. Judith had chalk all over her little arms, her tiny hands clinging to an oversized piece of chalk as she just kept stabbing it into the tar. "Looks like stars, right?" Em said with a grin.

"Sure does." Daryl responded, turning his head to look at Lena, meeting her incredible dark brown eyes. "Know somethin?" He said to Lena then, her expression softened on him.

"No, what?" She asked, loosening her hold as he turned a bit more. He pulled her into him, getting her right up in his lap, their faces close together as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders.

"I love you, girly." He said, then kissed her softly, their lips moving in tandem with the barest touch of tongues till they heard a little giggle, and the sound of Carol chuckling. They pulled apart, looking over to see Carol standing next to Maggie, Maggie holding her own little girl in her arms, and both of them -along with Em- grinning at them like idiots. "Voyeurs." Daryl said, making them all laugh again. Lena, too. She brought her lips to his ear. He could feel her smiling.

"I love you, too, Daryl Dixon. Always."

Walkers, evil, the end of the world? None of that could take this from him. Let it all try. Because he'd fight tooth and nail to protect it all, to protect this place and these people, to protect his wife and daughter. That's just who he is. That's what he does. That's the man these people taught him to be. And he wasn't about to change. Ever. He'd found heaven at the end of the world. And heaven was right there in Lena's arms, watching their daughter play, surrounded by their family, in the place they called home...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope you enjoyed this somewhat short fanfic. I wrote it quite awhile back, before the Negan arc took place on the show. I plan on writing some follow up fics in the future. Pretty please let me know what you thought! And thanks for reading!


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